Knives in the Dark
by Norrrrrrrrrr
Summary: An eleven year old Harry saves a goblin from Quirrell during the Gringotts break in. How will Harry's strange new friend affect the boy who lived? First Fic, so it's very rough in places. AU, no major bashing. Disclaimer: I only own my ideas and interpretation. After reading a few reviews I realise really need a new beta, since I seem to have misplaced my old one Anyone interested?
1. The Gringotts Attack

**AN: I've just updated this chapter, since the original version was very poor. Tell me what you think.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.**

Harry stared around in wonder at the dank tunnel full of stalagmites and stalactites. He never would have suspected there would be a secret network of tunnels running under London, not in a million years. They might even be under the Thames, given the moisture. Hagrid moaned quietly from his place in the secret cart.

"I'm sorry you're late 'Arry," he groaned. "I've always had trouble on these carts, but I never would have thought boats would be the same."

"I already said it was fine Hagrid," said Harry, grinning. "You just shouldn't have made the boat go quiet so fast, that's all." Their morning had been eventful. Hagrid had received his morning paper late, since the owl that delivered it had been blown about a bit in the storm. This meant Hagrid had slept in, panicked, rushed breakfast for the two of them and sped the boat to shore. Not the best idea.

"Vault 713 will be around the next bend," said Griphook, the irritable looking goblin driving the cart. He grinned evilly at Hagrid's obvious discomfort as he slammed on the breaks, bringing the cart to a sudden stop. Griphook nimbly stepped out of the cart, lamp in hand while Hagrid struggled to his feet. Suddenly, Griphook's hand shot out, blocking Hagrid's path.

"Wha-" Hagrid's question was cut off as a blast of red light caught him in the chest, bodily lifting him over the cart and slamming him into the wall. Harry ducked down inside the cart, terrified. What was that? Harry quickly found himself joined in the cart by Griphook, who leapt back into cover just in time to avoid another blast of red light.

"Stay down boy," growled the goblin, reaching inside his jacket and producing a heavy looking dagger. "I'll miss a raise if you die." The cart rocked on the tracks as more blasts struck it and Harry flattened himself against the other side, cowering in fear. Why did he agree to go with the big man? Was this a regular occurrence? The goblin however, slid closer to the attacks, listening intently. After a few moments, the cart stilled and the attack appeared to have stopped. Readying himself, the goblin leapt up about to vault over the edge and charge whoever was attacking them.

"Avada Kedavra!" As soon as Griphook stood, a jet of green light hit him in the chest, causing him to crumple like a rag doll. Harry stifled a scream when he saw the goblin's blank eyes. Was he dead? He remember that light. It was the light from his dreams. Shaking, Harry checked the small man's wrist. No pulse. The man's chest was completely still and Harry choked back a sob. Whoever had cast that spell had killed him.

"Ennervate," the man outside the cart said quietly and Harry heard a groan. "Wake up goblin, you have work to do?" Harry heard a thump followed by a fit of hacking coughing.

"Who the hell are you?" came a stubborn if slightly shaky voice.

"That is none of your concern," replied the dangerous man impatiently. "What matters is what I'll do to you if you don't open the vault."

The goblin laughed then, surprising Harry. "Vault 713? Then I'm afraid you're out of luck. I lost access to this vault when I chose to work part time. I guess from you're face you didn't know that, did you?"

"Why didn't you tell me when I caught you!" screamed the man, enraged.

"Isn't it obvious?" said the goblin condescendingly. "My life is worth far less than the Flamel account's safety wizard. Letting you have the stone would have brought shame on my name."

"Crucio!" Harry winced as he heard the goblin scream in pain. It just seemed to go on and on. This man was evil whoever he was. No-one who wasn't would do something like that. That was when Harry came to a conclusion. The man was going to kill the goblin if he didn't stop him. Harry reached over quietly and grabbed the knife.

"Who would have access?" asked the man, just as the screaming stopped and the goblin gasped in relief.

"Well, Griphook would have," said the goblin, taking deep breaths. Harry stood up quietly, seeing the man standing over the goblin his back to him. Harry quietly stepped over the side of the cart, holding his breath.

"Where is he?" growled the man.

"Well Mr Garlic-head," said the goblin, spittle flying from his pointy teeth. "I believe you just killed him." Harry saw the man tense and realised what was about to happen. He had to act now.

"Avada Ke-AAIIIEEEE!" Harry rammed the knife hard into the man's wand arm, twisting the blade as it sunk in, watching the dark figure stagger back whimpering in pain. Acting while the robber was put of the picture, Harry grabbed the goblin on the ground, dragged him to his feet and pulled him along behind him, down the tunnel. The crack of stone shattering came from behind so Harry and the goblin picked up the pace.

Eventually, they left the screaming man far behind and Harry came to a stop, staggering as he finally noticed the pain shooting through his scar. "Boy?" Harry tried to focus on the goblin in front of him, but his body wasn't having any of it. Harry slammed into the ground unconscious and the goblin rushed forwards, swearing.

HPHPHP

Afe ran down the tunnel, leading the security team. There had been a breach. He didn't even know that was possible. Somehow, a man had passed through all their wards like they weren't even there. The alarms had only gone off when spells had been fired near Vault 713. This was disastrous. If the vault had been breached, Gringotts' reputation would be ruined.

Afe twitched his crossbow at a sound, only relaxing when a large lizard scampered into a crack in the tunnel wall. He had to focus, ignore the tunnels' usual inhabitants and find the attacker. The team rounded a corner and the scene of chaos surrounding Vault 713 came into view. Rubble surrounded the vault and the cart was tipped over, revealing Griphook lying glassy eyed on the ground. It had to be Griphook, he was the one on the logs. Afe quickly scanned the tunnel with his crossbow spying a bloodied dagger lying discarded on the ground and the half giant, groaning on the ground.

"You two, take care of the half-giant," Afe said, gesturing with his crossbow as he and the other three approached the vault door. Afe quietly scooped up the knife and hid it inside his jacket.

"What happened?" asked the big man groggily. "I can' remember nuthing. Where's 'Arry?" Afe grinned, pleased as his men spun a convincing lie about Hagrid setting off a disused trap. The vault door was secure, thank God. Now Afe turned his attention to the other issue at hand. They had to find Harry Potter.


	2. Willan Monard Gornuk

**AN: Rewritten to improve the quality.**

**Disclaimer: I own some of the concepts but most... not so much.**

Gringotts was a lot like a swan; serenity on the surface while underneath lay frantic activity. Behind the public face of the bank teams of heavily armed goblins searched the access tunnels and secret passages. The manager was furious. A nearly successful break in, a kidnapping nd a death all in one day.

Not a single sign had shown up on any of their wards. None of their wizard traps had gone off, despite the fact that the thief was definitely a wizard. All the investigating officers had to go on was the word of Gornuk. The problem was that Gornuk's eyes had gotten older and the tunnel had been dark, not to mention any spells the man may have cast to cover his face. Basically, they only knew the man was wounded and that he was English. Not much to go on. At least the knife wouldn't let the wound be healed using magic.

Afe was exhausted. His team had been guarding one of the exits for hours, crossbows at the ready, knives at their belts. "When do you think we'll be let off?" asked Brakbarb, a young man who carried a number of extra weapons, including a pickaxe and rock hammer.

"Hell if I know," replied Afe, looking around the tunnel. "Say, have you ever seen a lizard that big down here?" the large creature was perched on a ledge, looking down on them.

"Not a regular tunnel lizard." Brakbarb looked closer, before paling and aiming his crossbow at the thing. "Gringott's gonads, that's a damn big lizard. I'm going to shoot it. It might be dangerous."

"Sure you don't want it for your trophy wall?" asked Afe, smirking.

"Oh shut up," snarled Brakbarb, glaring at Afe. "Hey! Where did it go?"

"Who cares?" asked Bellwen, stretching. "It's just a lizard." He watched quietly as a large lizard scampered away. Bellwen didn't think the scaly beast deserved a bolt to the head. He hoped it would avoid any other trigger happy idiots, though why anyone would want a reptile on his mantle astounded him. "By the lord I wish I had a pipe."

HPHPHP

"Mr Gornuk, what is your opinion of the boy?" The manager of Gringotts leaned forwards in her chair, staring at him from beady little eyes.

Gornuk stood in front of the council next to Afe Senior, feeling incredibly out of his depth. He'd only just been called in to the council chamber and had not been informed of what this was about. "Harry Potter, Ma'am? The boy is brave, that much is for certain. He's also underfed and small for his age. I asked the half-giant. The boy's guardians told him nothing of who he is and they still take the money the account sends for the boy's care."

"Concerning facts," stated Rafgor Senior dispassionately. "I suppose you can only tell us of his financial affairs. That is after all, all you know of him, is that correct?"

Gornuk glared slightly. "Yes Sir. I also know that Albus Dumbledore has blocked all attempts to expand his wealth. Seems the old man believes that Harry has enough." The contempt in Gornuk's tone was palpable.

"Who's to say he doesn't?" said Rafgor viciously. "What concern is the boy of ours?"

"He saved my life," growled out Gornuk. He glanced at his old mentor Bogrod for support. That the man still worked full time at Gringotts and held a council seat amazed him. Gornuk was already feeling his age and he barely half Bogrod's."Surely that counts for something? Anyway, why am I here?"

"Indeed," said Bogrod, smiling slightly. "Mr Gornuk, this council is gathered to determine the fate of Griphook's family name."

"So... why do you need me?" asked Gornuk in confusion. "And why were you interested in Potter. I know he met Griphook, but it was only briefly."

"Because Mr Griphook was stealing from Mr Potter's accounts." There was a quite growl from Rafgor, which Bogrod pointedly ignored. "Griphook's motivation was not clear. In fact, Griphook did not even need the money. No matter the man's reasons, we are considering Griphook's will null and void. By law, all Griphook's money should go Mr Potter, but that would require Harry to gain a goblin name."

Rafgor looked furious. It was well known that Griphook had been his youngest son's godfather. Gornuk could see why he was here now. They wanted to know Harry's morals before they passed anything on to him. "Mr Potter would certainly deserve the name. An eleven year old with no wand who defeats a man who snuck past all of our wards. The Griphooks were warriors and it seems Mr Potter has the makings of one." He glanced around the chamber. "And it would ensure that the Griphook name would not die out."

The councillors glanced amongst one another, grudgingly nodding. "Very well," said the manager, straightening in her chair. "Mr Potter shall be given the Griphook name in repayment for the thefts against him. He however, no-one else outside of Gringotts will know this. Gornuk, as he saved your life, we feel you would be best to manage his accounts from now on. You seem to have a certain interest in the boy's well being already and the commission is prestigious. Congratulations."

"Yes Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am." Gornuk felt a little stunned. He hadn't expected that. Neither had Afe apparently, whose mouth was hanging slightly open.

"You may leave Mr Gornuk," said Rafgor bitterly. "Mr Afe, please step forward." Gornuk walked out of the chamber to the sound of the heavy doors slamming. He felt it was high time to meet his saviour.

HPHPHP

Gornuk held the flickering blue gas lamp up as he stepped into the darkened room. The boy lay asleep in the bed, shifting restlessly. He was so small. He was still taller than Gornuk, that was true, but for a human... Gornuk took a moment to consider the lad. Messy black hair, large clothing, pallid skin and a gaunt face. His appearance spoke of hardship, nothing that would break him, but plenty that would have made him brittle. Harry's face scrunched up at the light as Gornuk stepped closer. Slowly, the boy opened his eyes.

"Where am I? Where's Hagrid?" Harry stared around wildly before his eyes fixed on Gornuk's lamp. He tried to sit up, but Gornuk placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Try to relax Mr Potter. You're in Gringotts, remember? Your friend can't remember anything, but aside from that he's fine. How are you feeling?" Gornuk smiled down at the boy encouragingly.

"Err... sore sir. My scar hurts a lot. Has ever since the attack." The boy looked embarrassed, like he was ashamed to admit to the pain, but Gornuk gestured for him to go on. "It usually hurts only after dreams of that night. You know... the night my parents..."

Gornuk swallowed nervously. "Well, it is a curse scar inflicted by an evil man Mr Potter. I'm sure that might explain some of it." He'd have to get someone to look into it. Gornuk doubted his relatives would had ever done anything about it, even if they had understood. Actually, something needed to be done about those... people. Gornuk would have to see what he could come up with.

"Excuse me, but who are you sir? If you don't mind me asking." The boy looked at him cautiously and Gornuk found he had to admire the boy. His head was still in the game despite everything.

"I'm Willan Monard Gornuk. You saved my life down in the tunnels?" Gornuk pulled a chair over and sat down facing Harry. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, I guess," Harry said awkwardly. "But please don't think you owe me. I only did what I should have."

"Well thank you all the same." Gornuk grinned at the boy's modesty. He seriously doubted any normal wizard would have had the guts to do what Harry had done. "I've got a request from my employers Harry. I know this may seem strange, but we'd like you to not mention any of this. The break in, the attack, the death of Griphook." Gornuk leant forwards as Harry's brow furrowed. "You see, Gringotts is Goblin territory. Think of an embassy; its basically a little piece of another country inside England, understand." Harry nodded. "If this got out it would harm our reputation. Our relations with the average wizard aren't fantastic as it is. If they thought we couldn't protect their gold..." Gornuk let the statement hang, watching Harry's face.

"Okaaay... I guess I can understand. This isn't illegal, right?"

"No Mr Potter." Gornuk looked at Harry carefully. "As for me owing you, I'm afraid you don't have a choice. I've made up my mind to help you in any way I can." Gornuk had opted not to mention the Griphook accounts to Harry. He was after all, still a child. But the boy needed to learn about the society he was entering.

"You don't-"

"Oh, but I want to help you Mr Potter. You saved my life. Even if goblins don't have life debts like wizards,we still have our honour. I doubt you're used to help, but I still want you to accept it."

"Yes sir."

Gornuk stood up, picking his lamp up from the bedside table. "Excellent. I'll leave you to rest. When you're feeling up to it, I'll send you home with Ted Tonks. He'll explain everything to your relatives, then pick you up tomorrow. Don't worry Mr Potter. Ted's a sort of all purpose problem solver. The man regularly deals with politicians and bankers. He won't have any problem dealing with them. I'll see you tomorrow Mr Potter."

The boy settled back into the narrow bed without a hint of discomfort. "Thank you. This means a lot to me sir."

_It means a lot to me too Mr Potter. It really does._ "Goodbye Mr Potter."


	3. Heat

**AN: I really hated this chapter in its original form. Hopefully this is less wooden and contrived.**

**Disclaimer: Up in the description.**

Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned. School shopping had taken up the entire day with very few breaks. He wasn't complaining; it had been a lot of fun seeing the sheer variety of things in the alley with Ted Tonks, a wizard and Gringotts Human Liaison Officer and a good friend of Gornuk. He'd taken Harry home last night, bringing a letter from Gornuk to the Dursley's with him. They'd gone very pale on reading it and looked absolutely furious, but had nodded in agreement after rereading the letter in the kitchen for the fourth time.

"You look tired. I think it's time for dinner." Ted gestured Harry forwards. "Come on. I know this great Indian place, all this weird magical food. It's a real experience." He glanced at Harry's face. "Oh don't look at me like that. It's not going to kill you. Have you never had Indian food before?"

"No," said Harry, feeling a little nervous. "I've never really eaten out at all."

Ted looked at him sadly. "No, I don't suppose you have." Ted had heard most of the details from Gornuk and was very sensitive, but Harry still caught the occasional look. "Well anyway, like I said it'll be an experience. I know the Patils. Its an extremely nice place."

Harry followed Ted's lead nervously. 'Nice' sounded an awful lot like 'expensive'. Stepping into a small door in a side alley off the main street, he suddenly assaulted by a wave of noise and smell. He stared around in wonder at the large restaurant. The walls were covered with Indian artwork and there was soft music playing in the background. "How did they fit this place in here?" Harry asked, staring.

"Oh come now Harry, you know the answer," said Ted, shaking his head and smirking.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Magic, right? That's the answer to everything here isn't it?" "A frown crossed his face. "Don't they now how to do without it?"

"Many wizards don't," said Ted as he guided harry through the crowded room to an empty table. "It's just lucky that you realise there are other ways around your problems. It certainly makes life easier. Most wouldn't think of life without magic, just like most muggles wouldn't think of living without technology." Ted scooped up the menu sitting in front of him, leafing through the pages. "Okay Harry, it's time to order. You see those little numbers left of the meal names?" Harry nodded. "Good. When you decide which meal you want, say 'I wish to order number _four_', for example. The meal will appear in front of you directly from the kitchen." Ted looked up and gestured around. "It saves on the cost of staff, as you can see, and means the food stays hot. Hogwarts does the same."

"Okay," said Harry feebly, looking at the incomprehensible names on the menu. "So, what's the least spicy meal?"

Ted smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I'll let you work that out for yourself."

HPHPHP

Contrary to what Harry had feared, the food was nowhere near as hot as he'd thought it would be. While it was true that steam gushed from his ears every time he took a bite, other parts of meal seemed to be added purely to prevent overheating. He was actually having a lot of fun with his first dinner out, even if it was with a complete stranger. That is, until Andromeda Tonks walked in of course.

Harry saw her before Ted did but didn't make any connection, merely noting her as an exceptionally pretty woman in her late thirties. It wasn't until her eyes lighted on Ted and a wide smile spread across her face that he realised they might know one another.

"Ted!" she called, swiftly moving through the crowd to grab him from behind in a fierce hug. "I didn't realise you'd be taking an important client here."

"Andy!" Ted's face mirrored hers as he twisted round in his seat to return the hug. "Harry, I'd like to introduce my wife, Andromeda. Andromeda, this is Harry Potter. I've been taking Harry shopping for Gornuk, after that incident at the bank left him without a chaperone."

Harry stood up politely, extending his hand, but felt his smile wither as he caught the change on her face. Andromeda's face didn't exactly fall, but the smile became slightly forced and her eyes held a painful look. "Its a pleasure to meet you Harry," she said in slightly pained voice.

"Likewise," he said, shaking her hand. What had he done wrong? Had he somehow insulted her, broken some important wizarding taboo? Harry glance at Ted, who looked as mystified at Andromeda's sudden mood swing as he did. "Well Ted, I'd better be off," she said, steeping back from the table.

"Are you sure?" Her husband looked a little bewildered when she nodded. "Well, okay. Can I have a word before you go? Harry, do you mind?"

Harry shook his head and watched as Ted stood up and he and his wife walked over to a quiet corner of the room. Whatever they were discussing took what felt like a very long time, leaving Harry feeling more awkward by the second. It didn't seem like an argument and there were no signs of anger, something Harry was very good at picking up on, but it still seemed very heated. It ended with Ted pulling Andromeda into a tight hug, which lasted a few moments before she kissed him on the cheek, gave Harry a half hearted wave and walked out. Ted walked back over to their table, looking sad.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Harry concerned.

Ted waved him off. "No no Harry, nothing of the sort. You just..." Ted paused for a moment, considering his next sentence. "Look, I'm not certain I should be telling you this Harry, but you sort of have a right to know. Andromeda's cousin, Sirius Black, was your godfather." Harry stared at Ted uncertainly, waiting for him to finish the story. "Look, I don't know how to put this gently, so I'm just going to say it. He's currently in prison for the murder of thirteen people and unofficially betraying your parents' location to You-Know-Who." Ted ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry to tell you this Harry."

Harry sat stock still, feeling sick. After a few moments, he managed to find his voice. "So why-" The lump forming in his throat made it difficult to talk and he came to a sudden halt.

"My wife just couldn't cope with the reminder of what he did, that's all Harry," said Ted, clearly out of his depths but still trying to soothe the boy's feeling. "Thing is, she never really accepted that he did any of it Harry. It just seemed so out of character for Sirius; even I thought so and I knew Sirius for far less time than Andromeda. For years after she kept trying to find a way to explain away his guilt, but the evidence seemed overwhelming. She even tried to blame it on Peter for a while." He caught the look on Harry's face and quickly clarified. "Peter Pettigrew. One of the people Sirius killed. There was evidence, but his body was... well it doesn't really dwell to think on." Ted looked conflicted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all this. It's just that-"

"No," said Harry, cutting Ted off. "I'm glad you did. It's just unexpected, that's all." Harry stared at his hands for a moment before looking up. "Can we leave now?"

Ted smiled weakly at him. "Sure Harry. I'll take you home."

HPHPHP

Ted picked Harry up from the Dursley's several times over the following weeks to take him to visit Gornuk, supposedly for account business. It was still a little awkward between them after the conversation at the restaurant. Harry knew Ted was worried about how he was coping with the revelations about his past, but Harry wasn't certain he could say anything that would comfort Ted.

At least the visits to Gornuk were fun. Harry knew they were nominally to talk about his finances, but in truth the topics ranged onto a wide range of topics and were a lot of fun. Gornuk, despite his slightly intimidating manner, was an amazing teacher and an even better listener. It was odd. He never seemed to judge Harry, despite the fact he was constantly giving him suggestions. The best thing though was that Gornuk never seemed to want anything for it. Ted was nice, but it was really just his job. The financial part of it was Gornuk's domain, to be true, but it wasn't what it was really about at all. This gave Harry the courage to ask an awkward question.

"Um, sir?" Harry said, clearing his throat. They were sitting in yet another high domed room a little outside the small temple hidden away in the back of Gringotts and Harry could feel the eyes of passers by on him, curious.

"What is it Mr Potter?" asked Gornuk. "Oh don't worry about them." He gestured at a small group of goblins passing, carrying a large chest between them. "You've done nothing to offend anyone."

"That's not it sir," said Harry nervously. "Its just... do you think you could find out some details about my parents' friends? I mean, I know nothing about them." He looked at the older man hopefully.

Gornuk sighed, his eyes shifting over to look at Harry. "Of course Mr Potter. Not meaning to pry, but this is about your conversation with Ted Tonks, isn't it?" Harry nodded, looking at the ground. "Tough thing to find out like that. I'll provide a good deal more than just details about Sirius Black. Maybe seeing how everyone connects might make things clearer to you."

"Thank you sir," said Harry gratefully.

"Now," Gornuk stood up from the bench and stretched. "How would you feel about learning a little on goblin theology and ethics Mr Potter? It's not as dull as it sounds."

Harry he'd rather take Gornuk's word for it, but followed him into the temple all the same. It was a little thing to do for a friend.


	4. Platform 9 and Three Quarters

**AN: Another chapter rewrite. I'm doing this every time I have writer's block.**

**Disclaimer: You know it.**

Gornuk stared at the nervous boy sitting across the table from him. "Mr Potter," he began, watching him carefully. "You do realise this sounds an awful lot like wishful thinking." Harry's face fell and Gornuk winced at his choice of words. "Listen Harry, I understand that you don't like the idea of your godfather being an evil man, but he was sent to Azkaban for a reason. A full court-"

"There was no court," said Harry suddenly, blurting it out. "I checked in those records. He never had a trial."

Gornuk blinked. He hadn't actually had a chance to read the boxes of files one of the information brokers had found for him. Now he was rather hoping he had. "Are you sure?" he asked unsteadily.

Harry nodded vigorously. "There's a record of the order for his imprisonment in Azkaban, but that's it. They caught him in the street near the explosion and just asked a few of the muggles who'd been standing close enough to hear the conversation between him and Pettigrew." Harry's face fell a little at his point. "They didn't find any evidence that Pettigrew could have apparated away, but this world has magic right? There must be some possibilities. And there was only the word of others that Sirius was my parents' secret keeper. It could have been Pettigrew." The look of hope on Harry's face was painful.

Gornuk sat, considering what Harry had said. Perhaps giving Harry those documents had been a mistake. He'd meant to resolve the issue, but thinking back on what he'd heard of Black, he shouldn't have been surprised by this turn of events. Hated by his family, apparent friends with muggleborns and 'blood traitors'. He had a horrible feeling that Sirius' poor home life made Harry sympathise with him more, made him feel like he had a connection with the man. "Mr Potter, I seriously doubt any of this is possible. However," he said, holding up his hands to forestall the boy, "I will look into the matter and see if there is any possibility that there might have been a mistake."

"Its not that I think he's a hero," said Harry, shifting uncomfortably. "Actually I think he sounded like a bully. Along with my father." The pain in his voice was palpable. "But he just seemed far too loyal to his friends and distant to his family. Do you understand Sir?"

"I understand Mr Potter," said Gornuk, looking sadly at the boy's small form. "Now we better get a move on, or we'll spend the entire day sitting in my office." Gornuk had a feeling that a long conversation with his mentor was going to be called for after he sent Harry home. Bogrod might think he was a bit odd for caring about a wizard boy, but the man certainly had enough children to know how to deal with them.

HPHPHP

Th rest of the holidays flew by in a blur of activity for Harry. He was beginning to wonder what exactly Gornuk had done to the Dursleys to ensure their cooperation and Harry's peace and quiet. Harry had asked the goblin one time and received an evil grin as his only reply. After that, Harry remembered what Gornuk had taught him of goblin ethics and shuddered a little. Retribution was expected for unrepentant sins and thinking on it Harry doubted the Dursleys came off as repentant.

But now the holdiays were over and Harry soon found himself being walked throught the barrier at Kings Cross Station onto Platform 9 ¾. It was spectacular. The Hogwarts Express was a bright red steam train, like the one he'd seen in one of Dudley's torn, abandoned books. A small cough drew Harry's attention to Gornuk, who'd been standing just to his left.

"Mr Potter," he said grinning like the cat who ate the canary. "You seem to be missing something from your luggage."

Harry looked back at his luggage carefully. What was Gornuk playing at? Everything was there, sitting as it should. He turned back to Gornuk a question forming on his lips, but it died as he saw what was sitting in the large cage Gornuk had apparently hidden somewhere. A large snowy owl sat in the cage, blinking up at him.

"She's a girl, in case you were wondering," said Gornuk, whose face seemed to be half shark-toothed smile right now. "This means I expect you to write, understand? No doubt Ted will too."

Harry nodded, a little stunned. "Thank you sir. It means a lot to me."

Gornuk looked around quickly before shifting closer to Harry. "You also need this." Harry stared in horror as the goblin slid Griphook's vicious dagger into his jacket.

"What are you doing sir?" he said in a panicked whisper. "I could be expelled for having that."

Gornuk chuckled. "Relax Mr Potter. Its enchanted to remain concealed until you need it." Harry stared at him dubiously. "Believe me, this world is a dangerous place. What's worse is that most of the monsters in it aren't the ones you read about in school. Its a gift from all of us."

Harry was shocked. A goblin gift was a permanent change of ownership. That he was being given one... Harry teared up a little before he could stop himself. "Thank you sir."

"Good luck Harry," said Gornuk, grabbing his hand, "and don't underestimate anyone." And with that last comment the goblin turned away and walked into the crowd before disappearing.

"Well let's find you a compartment. Come on Harry." Harry followed Tonks through the rapidly growing crowd towards the train, his mind full of worries. Thinking back on everything he'd heard about the wizarding world from Ted and Gornuk, it was indeed a terrifying place. His parents had died protecting him from what sounded like the wizarding version of Hitler. The fact that he had somehow survived while Voldemort had been destroyed was no comfort. And now he was walking onto a train with a large knife and the brother wand of the one that scarred him and killed his parents. He was beginning to have second thoughts What would Hogwarts be like? Maybe-

"Watch out Harry!" cried Ted. "You're about to squish someone's pet toad. Grab it, quick!" Harry looked down and quickly scooped up the toad, which gave an indignant croak at being manhandled. "Anyone lost a toad?" called Ted into the crowd.

"I have," came a reply. A round-faced boy walked up to them alongside an older witch wearing a vulture topped hat. "Yeah, that's Trevor. Thank you for finding him."

"No problem. I'm Harry." He handed Trevor over grinning.

"Neville Longbottom," replied the boy, tucking Trevor into a pocket of his robes and buttoning it securely. Harry quickly hid his emotions. He remembered reading about Frank and Alice, Neville's parents. The witch must have been his grandmother.

"Well Neville, how about you come with Harry and find a compartment?" said Ted, holding out his hand for Neville's trunk. Neville handed it over, before his gran grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him close, whispering something into his ear. "Is there a problem?" asked Ted, concerned.

"Not at all." The woman turned her head to her grandson. "Goodbye Neville. I expect great things from you young man."

As soon as the woman moved away, Neville and Harry followed Ted onto the train, finding him placing their trunks in the overhead. "Well, I'd better be off boys. Good luck."

"Later Ted," said Harry, smiling as the man slid past them and closed the door.

Neville looked at Harry curiously. "Is Ted your step dad Harry? It's just that you two don't look much alike."

Harry sighed and pushed his fringe out of the way, revealing his lightning bolt scar. "No. Ted's just been helping me that's all. I've never really had anyone I could call parents in any real sense of the word."

"Oh," said Neville, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry I didn't realise who you were. My parents... were taken from me too."

Harry nodded. He knew they'd been tortured into insanity. They sat quietly staring out of the window until the train pulled away from the station and began the trip to Hogwarts.


	5. The Train Journey

**AN: This is a slightly updated chapter. It's more of a beta'd chapter really.**

**Disclaimer: You know its in the story description, right? I won't get sued? Please?**

Neville and Harry were slowly settling into quiet conversation. Neville seemed to be a little downtrodden at home. Not like Harry however, who got the distinct impression that this was because Neville actually cared about his Grandmother. Harry discounted practically everything the Dursley's had ever said. Not that they had said anything much to him recently. Harry was positive Gornuk had something to do with this, so he compromised.

"Well, Mr G really made life a lot better for me," Harry stated. "I don't know what he said, but the Dursleys overnight changed tack. Haven't had a problem since."

Neville raised an eyebrow. "Mr G?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Mr G is the kind of person who makes you do everything he says, because your life will be a lot worse otherwise."

Neville smiled a little. "Sounds like my gran."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, that's how Gornuk looks when he deals with some of less pleasant clients." Neville's eyes widened and Harry realised his mistake. "Er, might be best for Mr G and I if you don't go spreading that round." Neville nodded hurriedly and Harry relaxed, just as the apartment door was pushed open.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Longbottom squib." Harry looked up to find a pale blonde boy flanked by two gorillas standing in the doorway. Harry did a quick assessment. They were all purebloods. Wealthy ones by their clothing, especially Blondy. He looked aristocratic, while the other two looked distinctly more upper-middle class. Both the gorillas snickered, but one looked distinctly less enthusiastic than the other.

"If he was a squib, he wouldn't be on the train, would he?" Harry stated coldly, standing up. The boy spun towards Harry.

"Did I ask for your opinion?"

Harry's lip twitched as he fought a smirk off his face. The boy was easily rattled. "No, but I'm giving it to you anyway, Blondy." He watched the boy's face contort with rage, but Harry could see Smart Gorilla fighting a small smile.

"How dare you," snarled Blondy going for his wand and showering the cabin with sparks. Harry was knocked to the ground as Neville tackled him out of the way. Harry couldn't see very clearly, while he lay on the floor, but heard the sudden sound of a scuffle.

"Now boys, why don't we lay down those shooters." Shooters? Who was that? Harry and Neville stood up, Neville wincing at some tender spots where the sparks had hit his face. They turned to the door and found Blondy and the Gorillas where being subdued by three red heads. The smallest had Blondy in a headlock, his knee buried in the boy's back. The other two, identical twins apparently, had their wands aimed at the gorillas. Smart Gorilla took one look around and decided to continue being smart. His wand clattered to the floor. Dumb Gorilla proved to be true to his nickname however, aiming at one of the twins. One of the twins moved faster, not bothering with his wand , simply punching Dumb Gorilla full in the face and scooping his wand of the floor as he reeled back.

"Get out of here." The youngest boy released his captive and watched as Dumb Gorilla and Blondy ran down the corridor. Smart Gorilla found his way blocked by the twins.

"Here are those other apes' wands. Tell them not to come back, okay?" Smart Gorilla nodded and left quickly, not looking at the twins.

"Thanks," said Harry stepping forwards.

The twins bowed extravagantly. "No problem. Fred-"

"And George Weasley at your service."

"And this one here is Ronald." Harry blinked. That was definitely rehearsed and he was pretty certain they'd just given him one another's names.

"Its Ron actually," muttered the boy, scrubbing his nose. The twins ignored him.

"Well, we'll be off-"

"Take another look at that tarantula. Later Ron" Ron visibly shuddered at the word tarantula.

"Can I stay with you guys.? I can't stand spiders."

Harry nodded and the boy sat down heavily. "I'm Harry and this is Neville," he said, plonking himself back down into his seat.

"Nice to meet you."

"Thanks by the way," piped up Neville, touching his face gingerly.

Ron grinned. "No problem. You've got to have some stones to take a spell like that." Neville flushed, looking embarrassed. "Next time though, try kicking him below the belt. Works better." Neville winced and nodded. "Well," said Ron, looking for a topic. "Anyone here play Quidditch?"

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Harry realised that, though Ron was nice, get him talking on his favourite team, the Chuddley Cannons, and he simply wouldn't shut up. Quidditch sounded amazing, but the Seeker sounded way too important. Ending the match and scoring one hundred and fifty points was insane if you scored ten points for a goal. It could also lead to ridiculously short matches or stupidly long ones. He told this to Ron and watched the boy splutter indignantly.

"Well... I don't... if you don't get it... you never will," he finished lamely.

Neville and Harry sniggered at the look on his face until the door slid open and another red head peered in. He was wearing a prefect badge, which he seemed to have shined to a mirror-like surface."Ronald,why aren't you in your school robes? We'll be at Hogwarts in less than five minutes."

"Fine Percy," he ground out. Percy looked a little affronted, closed the door of the compartment and walked off.

"Another brother?" asked Harry.

Ron nodded, clearly annoyed. "I have five brothers and a baby sister." Harry whistled. "Percy is a Gryffindor Prefect. We're all been in Gryffindor, even my granddad, so its kind of expected for me to be there too. What house do you want to be in Harry? I could take anything but Slytherin personally."

Harry winced. He'd heard about the anti-Slytherin sentiment from Ted. Apparently Slytherin had done a lot to deserve its reputation, but the level of resentment towards them was often blinding. "Don't know," said Harry as he started struggling with his robes. "I haven't really thought about it. Neville will probably be in Gryffindor though."

Ron, snorted, nodding as he struggled with the clasp on the outer cloak, which only seemed to make it worse. "Not many people take spells to the face, even for a friend."

Neville flushed, but they could see he looked was very pleased.

HPHPHP

Harry, Ron and Neville fought their way through the crowd of students towards Hagrid and the rest of the first years.

"'Arry, how are yeh? Haven't had a chance to look in on yeh since I got out of hospital. Get all yer stuff?" boomed Hagrid.

Harry smiled up at the big man. "Gringotts set me up with Ted Tonks for all my shopping."

"Ted Tonks? Good man, good man. How was he? Haven't seen him since I caught him in that glade in the Forbidden Forest with Andromeda Black. Course, she's a Tonks now. From what I heard her family wasn't pleased at that."

Harry smiled, imagining a younger Ted. "He's good. I met Andromeda. She seemed really nice." He chose not to mention the awkward moment in the restaurant. She was nice enough, even if she hadn't been comfortable around him.

"Good, good. Andy always was a nice lass, though she was always getting up to mischief. Usually with Ted, now I think of it." Hagrid glanced around. " Jeeze, we better get a move on. Alrigh' you lot. Everybody in!"

Harry, Ron and Neville found themselves in a boat with a blonde girl and suddenly the boats started to move across the still lake without so much as a ripple. The trip across the lake was very quiet after the excitement of the train, despite the fact that Trevor made several escape attempts and they soon found themselves sailing into a hidden dock and led to the Great Hall. Harry was a little annoyed at missing the first view of the castle, but it wasn't Neville's fault. Trevor seemed to be quite the escape artist.

"I heard we have to fight a troll," came Ron's shaky voice beside them.

Harry's head spun around. "Why?"

Ron looked sheepish. "For the sorting, you know, to determine which house you'll go into? Apparently there's a test." A bushy haired girl close to them was muttering spells under her breath, looking very determined. Harry smiled and shook his head.

"Someone's yanking your chain, Ron. All they do is stick a hat on your head with a tear in the brim. Apparently it pokes around in your mind and asks you questions to work out where you'll fit best." Ron looked properly embarrassed.

"Damn Fred and George." Harry laughed. Neville smiled, but it seemed half hearted.

"You worried, mate?" asked Ron.

Neville nodded. "Gran wants me to get into Gryffindor, like my dad. But I don't think I'm brave-"

Harry held up his hands to stop him and levelled a large grin at the nervous looking boy. "Trust me Neville, you will."


	6. Pig Headed Rash Brutes

**AN: A slight update and beta.**

**Disclaimer: Check the Description.**

"Potter G-" Professor McGonagall paused, her eyes widening in shock. Harry glanced at her nervously. Doubt and confusion flashed across the strict looking woman's face. He frowned. Was there a problem with his enrolment? The woman shook herself and straightened her back.

"Potter, Harry?" Harry shrugged and stepped forwards to sit on the stool. Glancing around the room he could see the looks of shock on the faces of the crowd, but some stuck out more than others. Ron and the twins had there mouths open. He probably should have told them on the train, but it hadn't come up. Harry had been enjoying the privacy of anonymity far too much.

The blonde boy from the train who Harry now knew was named Draco Malfoy looked sick. He was probably the son of Lucius Malfoy, one of the death eaters who had used the infamous 'imperius defence' and a ton of money to stay out of Azkaban. That made him politically very dangerous. Smart Gorilla, or Gregory Goyleas he was really known, had opted with the slack jawed look. Then the world went black as the hat was placed on his head.

"What have we here?You already know of me, Mr Potter?"

Harry grinned. "You sound like Gurnok."

The hat laughed. "That goblin? I suppose I might. Shall we focus on you, Mr Potter?" The hat began to mutter to itself. "Courage and a sharp mind? Impressive, Mr Potter. The genuine kind of courage, not the brash bravado of most and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?"

Harry thought hard. "What would you recommend?"

"Gryffindor or Slytherin. Yes, you would do well in Slytherin. Plenty of potential for greatness in here and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness." Harry winced.

"Not Slytherin? Why ever not Mr Potter?" Harry sighed.

"I don't want to associate with that sort of politics. Anti-muggle and magical beings attitudes and all that nastiness. Then of course there are so many children of Death Eaters in that house. I'll be having to watch my back, either from people trying to ruin my reputation or bolster theirs off mine."

"So you don't deny you want to prove yourself? You're just concerned about the culture of your house?" Harry nodded, before realising the hat was on his head and he couldn't see it.

"I don't want to be powerful and I already have friends going into Gryffindor. They seem to be the good kind." The hat chuckled at that.

"Yes, they do don't they? Though young Ronald could use a little more tact." The hat was silent for a moment."And are you aware of Gryffindor's reputation?"

"Pig headed rash brutes?" replied Harry, smiling.

The hat gave another short burst of laughter. " Better be seen as a brute than a bigot, eh Potter? Very well. Better be... GRYFFINDOR!" Harry took the hat of his head and handed it back to the Professor, who looked stunned by the result. Harry paused in front of her.

"Is there a problem, Professor?"

She blinked, settling her face back into a strict mask. "There is an... irregularity with your enrolment. If you would meet me after you are taken to your common room tonight, I would like to discuss it." Harry looked at her hesitantly, but nodded, before walking over to where Neville had saved him a seat.

"Mate, why didn't you tell us you were Harry Potter?" asked Ron in a whisper from his other side, looking hurt. Harry sighed.

"Because I don't want to be." Ron's brow furrowed and Harry realised he had to elaborate. "I've had a few tastes of fame since I entered this world. People seem to form ideas about who you are without looking for the real person." Ron looked down at his plate, mollified.

"What do you mean 'entered this world'?" asked Hermione Granger, the bushy haired girl he'd noticed in the Great Hall.

"I live with my Muggle relatives," said Harry flatly. He really didn't want to talk about this just yet.

The girl's eyes. flashed with annoyance. "But the books all say-"

"What books?" asked Harry, startled.

She looked flustered. "Your biographies."

Harry stared at Hermione for a moment, before an amused grin spread across his face."I have biographies? I'm only eleven and haven't done anything yet. How much could they write? Harry was born. The end." Hermione was looking more distressed than ever.

"But you defeated You-Know-Who. Haven't you been living in a secret safe-house learning all kinds of self defence and advanced magic?" Harry snorted.

"If fleeing from my cousin's gang counts as self defence and advanced magic, then yeah." Hermione sat back, looking troubled. Harry though for a moment before asking his question.

"You're a muggleborn aren't you, Hermione?" She nodded quickly.

"Then you're at a little bit of a disadvantage. There's a lot of misinformation in the magical world. It can be hard to sort the truth from the lies."

Hermione looked scandalised. "But shouldn't the government-"

Harry held up his hand, cutting her off. "People in the government are responsible for most of it. Propaganda, bribes, general corruption. A lot of its there to keep muggleborns down and purebloods at the top of the heap. I've had the good fortune to meet a few people who were able to open my eyes to it." Hermione looked horrified and Harry smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry. Its not like you're a second class citizen or something. Its more like the Masons." He turned his attention to the headmaster as the man began his speech.

Realising it was only the start of term notices and meaningless platitudes, Harry studied the staff he was likely to actually interact with, while keeping an ear out for anything important. Harry had already read a number of files related to Dumbledore and doubted that the politician would give anything away to the eyes of a first year. Harry still wondered at that box of files. Gornuk hadn't just been thorough, he'd exceeded his request many times over. Harry let his eyes drift across the teacher's table, picking out faces at random.

There was Professor Flitwick. Ted mentioned him being something of a favourite. There were the tell tale signs of goblin heritage if you knew what to look for. The shape of the eyes, the slightly longer fingers and of course the tiny stature. Harry would have to ask Gornuk about that at some point.

There was a palid looking man in a purple turban who seemed to be leaving the hall, looking ill. He hadn't heard anything from Ted about a purple turbaned man, so he was probably a new Defence against the Dark Teacher. Apparently they had a new one every year, which had caused an entire series of rumours about curses. He'd already met the McG and the round looking jovial lady must be Sprout. Harry was about to turn his attention back onto the Headmaster when he recognised a sallow face surrounded by lank hair.

Severus Snape, a former Death Eater. He'd noted his name in his father's school records. There was a list of detentions and other punishments related to the man a mile long. Harry had a photo of James Potter and the resemblance between Harry and his father was striking. This worried him. Snape apparently had a reputation for bias, supported by the sheer number of times he had been up before the school board.

Severe, black robes hung well from the Professor's body, suggesting a surprisingly powerful build. His dark eyes scanned the room above a hooked nose and a sneer revealed crooked teeth. Overall Snape was a ugly man, but half of it seemed to be attitude and personal grooming. Harry went to look away when he realised he'd been staring, but Snape's eyes snapped onto Harry's and he felt something push, like the onset of a migraine. Laboriously, Harry forced himself to look away. His mind was reeling. What had the Professor done to his head?

The feast was served, but Harry found himself having difficulty eating. This ended when Ron managed to splatter hot soup into Harry's lap.

"What the hell, Ron?" yelled Harry, leaping up while Ron gave a horrified apology. The soup wasn't hot enough to burn, but it wasn't a fun experience. "Can someone get me a napkin or something?"

Hermione opted for a cleaning spell instead, which worked far better, despite Harry's distrust of wands pointed at that general area and Harry sat back down heavily.

"You alright?" Neville said.

Harry nodded. "No burn, no foul."

Neville shook his head at Harry. "Not that. You haven't eaten a thing this entire time, Harry."

Harry glanced up at the head table. "Something about one of the teachers. Felt like he was in my head."

Ron snorted into his soup and Harry shifted away, thinking of earlier. "Sounds a little barmy,doesn't it?" he asked, wiping his face. "Which teacher?"

"Professor Snape."

Ron laughed. "You were just scared by a creepy bloke, Harry. Forget it."

Harry nodded and began eating the cold foot sitting on his plate. However, some part of his mind couldn't stop thinking of Professor Snape's eyes. Harry wouldn't forget.


	7. Griphook's Legacy

**AN: Slightly updated and betad. Goblin houses have been inspired by Terry Pratchett's dwarven houses in Thud.**

**Disclaimer: Its in the description.**

Gornuk slid the key into the lock of Griphook's house or more accurately, the basement door. Griphook owned a smaller building on the corner of Knockturn and Diagon Alley. The frontage was on Diagon Alley, which was lucky. Gornuk, as Harry's account manager had found himself with the dubious duty of checking over the property Harry had inherited from Mr Griphook.

The upper levels were rented out to wizards. Gornuk had taken a look at Griphook's books before he'd come and noted the rates were a little steep. That would have to change. There were a number of rooms empty. The bottom floor as well, apart from a few bare tables. In typical goblin fashion, however the basement had been expanded, both magically and physically into a large and expensive second house under street level.

The wards on the entrance were heavy and Gornuk had to call in a few favours to have them temporarily lifted. Harry could have walked right through them as a Griphook, but the goblins still hadn't told Harry about the new arrangements. They honestly weren't planning on telling him either, at least not until he was an adult. Dumbledore had far too much of a hand in Harry's accounts. Gornuk knew that as this was still technically goblin money it would not fall under ministry influence, but there were all kinds of issues that could be created by Albus if he wanted to.

Gornuk moved down the basement stairs, with two things on his agenda. Firstly, he had to ensure that any items he had bought off other goblins was returned to the rightful owner. Secondly, he had to ensure that the house was fit to live in for the future. That might be a long way off, but Gornuk was hoping it wouldn't be.

"Its safe to come down Afe." Afe came down the stairs carrying a pack of muggle flat packed cardboard boxes, while Gornuk returned upstairs for the enchanted containers and a magical chest.

Gornuk moved around the house, noting the high ceilings which were a little odd for a goblin house. Thick carpets covered most of the floors except in the kitchen and laundry, which was original bare stone and the bathroom, which had been tiled. All of the living areas had wood panelled walls and a large number of lamps. The Griphooks must have enchanted them to only light for the Griphooks, so Gornuk was forced to rely on his own.

The house had two living rooms, a dining room, five separate bedrooms, two studies and a large library, as well as the kitchen and laundry. Gornuk hadn't picked up on any hidden rooms, but he doubted he would have the skill to notice those. Those rooms probably wouldn't have any bought possessions inside , wizarding or goblin, due to the risk of detection that would pose.

Gornuk's first sweep for goblin-made items only turned up a calligraphy set and a custom made set of bottles full of a liquids. Gornuk took one look at that set and placed the entire lot into a heavily warded box and locked it. He wasn't sure that he'd want to know exactly what those were. Addressing the two boxes and placing them aside, the goblins began checking for other items Harry would be better off not having. It turned out that all of these were to be found in either Griphook's study, or a locked cabinet in the library.

In the study, Gornuk found a set of cursed clothes, made to size up to the person who would wear them. As far as he could tell they were imbued with a slow moving contact curse that gave the wearer cancer. That was one thing magic could very rarely cure. There was also a set of twenty fountain pens charmed to leak ink onto a person's suit. That the ink was laced with a weakened Weedosoros solution did not bode well. That there were twelve pens missing from the set was even more worrying. Afe knew they needed to track down the rest of the set. The wizards probably wouldn't notice the effects within one generation, but if a second generation of wizards committed suicide and were found with the same pens, someone might make the connection.

The library cabinet contained a set of the darkest books Gornuk was ever likely to see. Placing on heavy gloves, Gornuk and Afe moved the entire set into the magical chest. Checking the other shelves Gornuk noted other dark books, which instead went into a case to be taken to Griphook's bank vault along with the pens and suit. Gornuk hoped Harry would not need them, but a leg up was always important.

The chest however, was added to the items to be sent off by mail. Gornuk addressed the chest to August Derleth, Librarian, Miskatonic University, Arkham, Massachusetts. August and Gringotts had an understanding that any... unusually dangerous books that Gringotts found would be sent to the Miskatonic University Library for safe storage and study.

HPHPHP

Gornuk walked back into his office, having left Afe to deal with organising postage for the two goblin items and escort for the chest to be taken to Miskatonic University. It could be quite a feather in Afe's cap if he performed well and considering Afe had taken the time to help him with a sensitive case, it was the least he could do. Overall, Gornuk was pleased with the way his day was going. He opened the door to his office and found himself looking at the midriff of a tall green clad witch. He blanched in surprise.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, looking up. "And may I ask how you came to be in my office?"

The severe looking witch flared her nostrils. "No, you may not Mr Gornuk," said the witch shortly. "What you may do is tell me why Mr Potter shows up on my records as Harry James Potter Griphook." Gurnok's eyes widened. That shouldn't be possible. Unless, of course...

"Your personal records, Professor McGonagall?" Her eyes flickered. So that was a yes then. "I'm assuming you've had them charmed by Mr Flitwick?" The woman stiffened. Gornuk hadn't thought to consider the part goblin professor.

"That is neither here nor there. I would like to know why Harry has a name he was not given at birth." Gornuk pinched the bridge of his nose and considered.

"Professor are you a competent occlumens?" Her brow furrowed.

"I can feel when someone attempts it and brush it off if that's what you mean. I've never had to fight anyone over it however." Gurnok sighed. It would have to do.

"Professor, please sit down," he said, gesturing to a chair as he moved around behind his desk. "Mr Potter's financials recently revealed that Mr Griphook had been stealing from the Potter account for quite some time. The simplest way to deal with this was to provide Mr Potter with Griphook's name." He could see the scepticism in her eyes and groaned internally. "There is more to this, but I am unable to to tell you more at this time."

"Why wasn't Mr Potter informed of this?"

Gurnok tensed. "You didn't tell-"

"No I did not. You are the first person I came to after I managed to convince Harry to give me your name." Gurnok relaxed a little. He doubted this was a woman who brooked no for an answer and couldn't begrudge Harry.

"Mr Potter wasn't informed of this so that no-one would find out accidentally, much as you have. We were a little..." Gurnok paused for a moment, considering the most diplomatic wording, "concerned of Mr Dumbledore's handling or Harry's accounts. The boy showed up to Gringotts in rags, you know." Gurnok decided that this was all the Professor needed to know.

"What?" said McGonagall, disbelievingly. "But-"

"Don't worry. I have rectified the situation, though I would wish you not to tell Dumbledore. I don't believe he has any right know. Now, if there is nothing else you wish to know, I bid you good day." The witch stood stiffly. Griphook watched her carefully. She clearly wanted to know more, but realised that she was getting no more answers for him and walked out the door.

Gornuk leaned back, breathing out a sigh of relief. He wasn't certain what she'd done, but Gornuk decided then and there that he was going to add so many wards to his office that a breath of wind wasn't going to get through. That had to be one of the most nerve racking moments in his life.


	8. Classes

**AN: This has been betad and expanded from the original version.**

**Disclaimer: Look up.**

Harry's first week went by in a blur of classes, each covering some central core tenant of magic, apart from History of Magic. He was appalled when he found out that two of his classes were run atrociously however. History of Magic had a ghost for a teacher, who due to some mishap in the paperwork before his death couldn't be fired. He just droned on and on about the Goblin Rebellions. Harry would have found it interesting if the lectures contained anything other than dates and statistics. It meant nothing. There was no motivation behind the action, no life in Binn's class. Harry did find that funny, but wished he didn't have to use ear plugs just to stay awake.

Quirrell, the man in the silly purple turban who ran Defence Against The Dark Arts stuttered badly enough to be unintelligible. Harry also suffered terrible headaches, probably due to whatever herbs caused the man's turban to smell of garlic. Quirrell actually seemed very ill, not that anyone apart from him, Hermione and Neville paid the man any attention. He favoured his left arm and winced whenever he moved his right too much. He had the distinct impression Quirrell didn't like him much, but was biting his tongue on the matter. This was another class Harry had opted to focus on self study for, though he had to be more careful, since Quirrell actually paid attention to his students, watching them carefully.

Flitwick had spent his first class looking at Harry oddly, but never mentioned a thing. He did seem pleased with Harry's attention and note taking however. The professor's demonstrations were all entertaining and informative. Funnily enough, half of them seemed to involve Trevor, which appalled Neville. Charms itself was a very practical subject, basically providing a million ways to save time.

McGonagall and her subject Tranfiguration however were simply amazing. Harry and Neville had arrived to an empty class room with a cat sitting on the teacher's desk. When Ron managed to arrive later than anyone else, he'd found himself being berated by the suddenly human cat. Harry liked this Professor. She was strict, but half the classes' problems seemed to stem from not asking her questions. By the end of the class, Harry and Hermione both a silver pointed wood instead of matches and Neville's was beginning to point. Harry wasn't certain when he'd need transfiguration however. Obviously higher level transfiguration could be useful, but when would they ever use it in everyday life? It reminded Harry a little of his science lessons at school.

Potions however, was a nightmare. The moment Professor Snape had entered he'd immediately singled out Harry with a barrage of tricky questions. When Harry couldn't answer, he finished with a one liner of all things.

"Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it Mr Potter?" Harry had tried to keep his face neutral. The man was clearly trying to goad him into reacting and Harry reckoned that a few weeks ago he would have. The Slytherin students were snickering sycophantically.

The professor stood expectantly, but Harry wasn't certain what to say. Should he apologise? Should he ask the professor the correct answers? Harry had read up on his potions text and he knew that this wasn't covered.

"Well, Mr Potter?"

"What do you want me to say, sir?"

Apparently that was a mistake. Snape's lip curled and he snarled. "Ten points for cheek Potter. Well?"

Harry schooled his face before answering. "What was the question sir?"

Snape sneered down at him. "Fame, you stupid boy."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. A question he could actually answer. "No sir." Snape swirled away in a swish of robes. They must have been tailored to move life that, but the cut was clean and simplistic. Probably said a lot about the man, but Harry doubted he could figure out what.

"Remember boy, you will receive no special treatment." The recipe appeared on the board. "Begin." Harry remembered his father's school record. Obviously his worries about Snape's bias were founded in fact.

The class was an unmitigated disaster for Harry and Neville. Neville jumped every time Snape appeared behind him and muffed his routine, while Harry found himself on the receiving end of snide remarks and abuse. Harry left the class feeling exhausted and Neville looked worse. At least they hadn't blown up their cauldron. Harry was just glad he and Neville had taken a chance to read up beforehand. That and the fact he'd had prior cooking experience.

One concern for both Hermione and Harry was the lack of any traditional subjects. English was required for all subjects, including herbology which Neville had a real knack for. Maths was often required for understanding some of the higher level concepts, but Arithmancy was only taught to higher level classes. Harry decided that when he wrote to Gornuk about his first week, he'd include requests for some English and Mathematics Texts, otherwise he'd be completely lost. He had a feeling he'd also need a few books on calligraphy, since writing with a quill was completely new to him. He still had trouble with the pen knife and hadn't thought o buy a self sharpening one.

Harry sat down after class on Friday and put all of this into an ink stained letter to 'Mr G' and a shorter one to Ted. Sending them off with Hedwig, Harry found himself with some time to kill and so decided to take a walk around the school grounds. They were extensive and all within easy walking distance. Remembering that the Forbidden Forest was actually forbidden, Harry instead found himself on the shore's of the Black Lake.

"Hey, Potter." Harry hadn't seen Smart Gorilla, who was walking out of the water, his pant legs rolled up. "I meant to apologise about that bit on the train, but didn't want to embarrass you in class."

"That's fine," said Harry politely. He wasn't certain he was fine with it, but Goyle seemed to be making an effort and knewbetter than to turn him down. He also knew Goyle could have approached him in class, but probably didn't want his apology to be rejected in public. Slytherins were cautious ones, that was for sure. "How are classes?"

Goyle grimaced. "Bad. I can't read good and Crabbe is even worse than me. Makes everything harder. Draco's not really helpful."

Harry smiled. He couldn't imagine a boy as self obsessed as Malfoy being helpful at all. "Why don't ask Hermione for help. You know, the girl with her nose in a book most of the time. She's really good at all this, plus she likes showing people just how intelligent she is." He had a feeling Hermione might actually be a little too smart for Goyle, but it was better than nothing.

"I can't get help from her," protested Goyle, irritated at the suggestion. "She's a mudblood. My house would kill me."

Harry's face clouded with anger. "Don't call her that. Its insulting. My mum was muggleborn, remember. It shouldn't make a difference"

Goyle had the good grace to look apologetic. "Sorry, I forgot. Don't make a difference what I call her though, it's what people think. Well, most in my house anyway. Least you stopped her shooting her mouth off. Slytherin hates her for her blood. If she's not careful Ravenclaw will hate her for her brains. She's not going to get it easy."

Harry nodded. Goyle was right. Not entirely, but Hermione was getting looks from some of the Ravenclaws and most of the Slytherins. They weren't exactly pleasant ones either. "Even so. Don't call her that."

"Okay," replied Goyle, looking back at the lake.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He was uncertain of Goyle. The boy was surprisingly wise, but there was a vein of bigotry lying deep beneath it. Harry wasn't certain whether to like him or not. "Nice speaking to you Goyle." Harry turned back towards the school.

"Later Harry."


	9. Draco Malfoy never learns

**AN: Slightly expanded and betad.**

**Disclaimer: Its up there somewhere, amongst the stars (or the description).**

Harry trudged up the path back to school when his path was blocked by Malfoy and Dumb Gorilla who had apparently been on their way to meet up with Goyle. Neither of them looked particularly happy with him. He quickly took a step back and felt a heavy weight appear in the folds of his robe. The knife? He guessed this was what Gurnok had meant. Only there when he felt he needed it. Merlin, Crabbe was massive.

"Want something?" Harry asked when they didn't move, shifting his weight lower.

"You're making friends with the wrong sort Potter. If you want to amount to anything, you need to realise some wizards are better than others."

Harry's brow uncreased. So this was what this was about. Malfoy thought he wanted to become a politician. Harry knew he could, but simply shrugged. "I don't exactly intend to go into politics, if that's what you mean."

Draco's brow furrowed. "But you're the-"

"Head of an Ancient and Noble House, I know," stated Harry flatly. "With no money and one surviving member. " Harry didn't mention the influence being the boy-who-lived brought and wasn't certain how accurate he was about his money, just wanting the conversation to end.

"Which is why you don't want to associate with mudbloods, squibs and blood traitors."

Harry's eyes narrowed. Hadn't he already had this conversation? "My mother was muggleborn, Malfoy." Harry's voice had a cold edge that made Draco flinch back. "Neville ain't a squib and he's certainly braver than you. As for Ron, he might be skinny, but do you want to end up fighting those brothers of his?"

Crabbe stupidly stepped forwards, raising his wand, going immediately to threatening. Harry casually threw a full body bind at him and watched as he toppled into the mud. He was actually a little surprised it worked, but didn't let it show.

"Draco, you're making a lot of enemies. Daddy can't bribe everyone you know." This was apparently the wrong thing to say. Draco cocked his fist and ran forward yelling in anger, straight into Harry's first blow. Harry's second blow doubled Draco over and left him wheezing. "Grow up, Malfoy."

Harry ran fast and hard and by the time Malfoy had his breath back and Crabbe was unbound, Harry was out of sight.

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Professor McGonagall rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"So you're telling me you cursed Mr Crabbe and punched Mr Malfoy below the belt in self defence?" Harry nodded. McGonagall sighed.

"What lead up to this?"

"He insulted my friends, I told him they were better than him, Crabbe pointed his wand at me and Draco tried to punch me. That's all."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, since I can't rely on your word over theirs that it was self defence." Harry frowned. "I really don't want to listen to their drivel, Mr Potter. Thank you for coming to me about this."

The professor poured herself a cup of tea as Harry left her office. Something was definitely off about the boy. A goblin name was a rare thing for a human to have. She couldn't think of another wizard in living memory who'd acquired one. Plus, the boy seemed far craftier than her usual lions, like he was constantly sizing everyone up. There was no doubt Harry was brave, but he seemed far more cautious than most of his cohort. Most would have fought and lost, but he ran. Nothing wrong with that of course, but strange for a Gryffindor.

More worryingly, what had the shifty little goblin meant about Harry being dressed in rags? All of Harry's clothing was very expensive. The boy was clearly well provided for. She supposed Harry could have had his wardrobe replaced, but had the goblin been telling the truth in the first place? Professor McGonagall decided to make sure to keep an eye on the strange Mr Potter.

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Alastor Moody sat morosely, staring at a box of fountain pens that sat on his desk with a drink in his hand. Like clockwork, one had been delivered to his office on the exact same day as last year. And the year before that, And the year before that. Too many years. The latest one had been left in the care of the post office for months before sending it on to him to prevent magical tracing as per usual. Not that he didn't know who sent them. Weren't they ever going to let it go? Apparently not.

Moody's magical eye rotated in its socket, fixing on the door. Didn't the man know not to leave well alone? "Bugger off,Shacklebolt," Moody slurred at the door, downing yet another glass of cheap firewhiskey. "I'm not here."

"Don't be like that Alastor," said Shacklebolt soothingly in his rich, deep voice. Moody noted the much more expensive bottle of firewhiskey the Grenadian had hidden behind his back. "He send you another one?"

Moody rolled the eye not aimed at the door. "Of course he bloody well did." Moody got up, stumping over to the door and unlocked it. "Get in."

Kingsley laughed at Moody's gruff tone. "My friend, why do you drink that low grade rubbish?" he said, glancing at the empty bottle sitting on Moody's desk. "You have to make the hangover worth the effort."

Moody grunted. "Well, you always buy me the good stuff. Why should I bother?"

Kingsley laughed, sitting down and conjuring another glass. "Just how drunk are you?"

Moody smiled grimly and poured them each a glass. "Not enough."

Shacklebolt shook his head at Moody disapprovingly. "You can't let him get to you, Moody. It was years ago and you had no way of knowing that would happen. Anyway, it wasn't as if you were the only one responsible. Remember the other side?"

Moody sneered at that. Of course he remembered the other side, but he knew Shacklebolt meant well and didn't say that. "Its not him that gets to me. Its me that gets to me, you know." They sat in silence for a while after that, drinking their way through the majority of the bottle. Shacklebolt stared.

"We seem to be running out of firewhiskey."

"Thank you, Shacklebolt. Your statement of the obvious is so valuable."

Shacklebolt casually ignored Moody's sarcasm and began going through his pockets. "Oh yeah, almost forgot. Goblin gave me his business card," said Shacklebolt, dropping his keys. "Said he wanted to talk to you about something but wouldn't say what."

Moody sat back in his chair. "What was his name?"

Shacklebolt frowned, struggling to remember. "Gurnuk, Gurnook, something like that." Shacklebolt finally found what he was looking for. "Ah, here we are. Willan Monard Gornuk." Moody stood up.

"I'll look into it tomorrow, when I'm sober. I'm going home."

Shacklebolt looked concerned. "Don't go apparating you'll-"

"I know, I know," snapped Moody irritably, stomping over to the fireplace. "I'll take the floo."

"Goodnight Moody," replied Shacklebolt to an empty room. Taking another glance at the box of pens, he picked up the bottle and left. Nothing good came of dwelling on the past. Never.


	10. Stones, Schemes and Sirius Black

**AN: Expanded and betad.**

**Disclaimer: Its still there.**

Gornuk sat in his office, reading Harry's latest letter. The boy was going well. Snape had apparently tried to punish him for attacking Malfoy and the other boy, but McGonagall's slap on the wrist made the matter officially closed. Snape was still furious though and Harry had to be careful to keep his head down. Other than that school seemed to be going well for the boy. He was doing well in all of his classes, even though he had to rely on self study for Quirrell's and Binn's class.

Gornuk leant back into his chair and sighed. He wished his own time was going so well. Despite his doubts about Black's innocence, Gornuk had arranged a meeting with Alastor Moody, one of the aurors who had worked with Sirius in the first war. It had been disastrous. Moody had completely shut him out the moment he learnt the purpose of the meeting and Gurnok had found himself practically thrown out the door.

When the Department proved to be a dead end, Gornuk had contacted Sirius Black's old school friend, the werewolf Remus Lupin. Remus had sent back a very polite but concise letter stating that he doubted he would be able to give an honest opinion on this matter. This was infuriating but unsurprising, given the fact that Remus had done everything in his power to keep an eye on Harry since he was a child. That wasn't admittedly much due to his status, but Gornuk doubted he'd answer anything he thought might harm Harry.

Gornuk was actually thinking about hiring Lupin as de facto landlord for Harry's house on Diagon Alley. Someone needed to keep an eye on the property and carry out proper maintenance. That and the lower floor really could use a shop to draw in more money. The man certainly seemed to have the integrity to do a respectable job. Gornuk placed Harry's letter aside and was about to pull another piece of parchment out when his office door opened a crack.

"Mr Gurnok?" asked the timid voice of one of the interns.

Gurnok rolled his eyes involuntarily. Was he really so terrifying? If he didn't know better someone told the interns horror stories about him as some sort of cruel joke. "Yes?"

The boy, barely out of his teens swallowed. "Mr Bogrod requests your presence in the manager's office."

"Did Mr Bogrod say what this was about?"

"The package in Vault 713, sir." Gornuk paled.

"Very well. I'll be down directly." Gornuk descended the floors in a daze. What was he needed for? Had someone objected to something he had done. Arriving at the large marble doors to the manager's office, Gornuk fidgeted with his tie, before stepping forward to knock on the door.

"Enter," came the manager's voice before his hand reached the door and the marble doors swung open silently. Inside the office, standing around the manager's round wooden table was Bogrod, the manager, and a wizard with his back to him. The manager was a formidable old woman, older even than Bogrod. Her face was hard and lined with age, her hair tied into a white bun. She was practically goblin royalty, she'd been around so long.

"Mr Gornuk," said the old woman. "Bogrod and I are trying to convince to Mr Dumbledore to accept goblin warding at Hogwarts for the duration of the stone's residence there. We were hoping you could help persuade him."

The man straightened his back, looking at Gurnok calculatingly. "Mr Flamel and I do not believe that necessary. Gringotts has no control over human property. No amount of negotiation will change my opinion on the matter." The manager's mouth tightened but Gornuk shook his head slightly. Dumbledore's might seem a tired old man, but there was steel hidden in his eyes. Gurnok was valued at Gringotts for his ability to negotiate with humans, but he could tell whatever he'd stepped into the middle of was far beyond his understanding.

"Then at least please accept an escort for the stone's journey," she countered smoothly, shifting tactics at Gurnok's signal."Its the least we could do."

Dumbledore was obviously unhappy with this. "I assure you that is not necessary."

The manager smiled nastily. "I insist." She knew doing this would ensure Gringotss reputation if this all went pear-shaped and Dumbledore could not deny it.

Dumbledore turned to the door. "Very well. I'll expect the stone at the school along with its escort in under two days. Just do your best to keep this out of the media for the time being."

The manager nodded formally. "Of course, Professor. Have a pleasant day." As soon as the door was closed and warded, the manager turned to Gornuk.

"Mr Gurnok, I believe you have a ward of sorts at Hogwarts." Gornuk nodded and the manager smiled grimly. "Tell your boy to keep his head down this year. I don't know what Dumbledore has planned but I can't imagine it'll be good for the students' safety. Not that I care about wizards but you might care about your client's safety more than most."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you for the concession." replied Gurnok hurriedly. Bogrod glanced at him, his face concerned. "Is that all?" The manager nodded dismissively.

Bogrod fell in beside him as they walked out. "Dumbledore's security is deliberately lax, in sure of it."

Gornuk nodded. "Not accepting Goblin wards? Practically suicide if you ask me and we're only offering them because of the value and age of the Flamel account. That and its economical power. It's almost like he wants it taken."

Bogrod stiffened at his words. "He does," said Bogrod looked sick. "They're using the philosopher's stone as bait for someone."

Gurnok felt the colour drain from his face. "I hope they know what they're doing."

Bogrod grimaced. "So do I, Gurnok. I can't imagine how wrong things might go if the stone is stolen. For wizardkind and us. Gold and immortality. Could you imagine how much damage could be done to the economy if someone dumped tonnes of gold into circulation?"

"I really don't want to think about that," sighed Gurnok. "We'd all be left with vaults full of worthless slag and no political leverage. You don't hink they could be after an enemy of the goblin state?"

Bogrod shook his head, frowning. "We'd be involved if they were. I have a horrible feeling someone wants the stone for its other property. I hope that whatever that old fools got planned is excellent. We could be in for a world of hurt if it isn't."


	11. A little history lesson

**AN: Expanded and betad **

**Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

Gornuk was at Hogwarts as part of the stone's escort and was now enjoying a little time off. He'd had a chance to have a poke around the warding scheme and had to admit to being impressed. There was centuries of layering in intricate patterns and a whole set of redundant systems. He could almost understand Dumbledore's confidence in the places defences.

The transfer had gone off without a hitch, though Bogrod had been frustrated at every turn when he tried to check on the stone's security. The goblins had definitely taken a disliking to that mean cat the caretakers had patrolling the halls, watching their every move. Gornuk wasn't even sure why Hogwarts needed a caretaker. The school owned the single largest number of elves outside of the Ministry building anywhere in Great Britain.

At least he'd been able to catch Harry's eye as he walked out the front doors. They were now standing on the Black Lake's edge, skipping stones across the waves. On this side of the lake, the trees of the Forbidden Forest shielded them from being seen from the school and it was wonderfully quiet.

"So what have you been up to Gornuk?" Harry picked up a stone and flicked it, managing to skip it once. He frowned at this effort.

Gurnok racked his for something that he was allowed to tell Harry. No point bringing up Sirius if there was nothing to report. He was actually hoping Harry would forget about his godfather over time anyway. "We've been adding Anti-Animagus wards to Gringotts. Anyone tries to walk through the door as an animal now, they turn back into a human on the spot. Then we'll bop them on the head and clap them in irons."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Why didn't you always have that?"

"There aren't many animagi out there Mr Potter." Gurnok gave Harry a wry smile, thinking of McGonagall. "One of your earlier letters gave me a reason to check. Apparently we had one fifty years ago, but no one bothered strengthening it and it fell." Harry nodded and they went back to silently flicking stones at the lake.

"Its actually a loch, you know," stated Gurnok, flicking his wrist and watching another stone dance across the waves.

Harry nodded. "I think all the English students calling it a lake changed that at some point." Harry stone plunked into the water with a splash and he cursed in frustration.

Gornuk smiled suddenly. "You know the lake from the Arthur tales, Mr Potter?" Harry nodded absently. "Same one."

Harry's eyes widened. "You're kidding." Gornuk's smile widened.

"This Mr Potter, is where Arthur found the sword known as Excalibur. Except of course it wasn't actually called Excalibur." Harry frowned for a moment.

"Then why haven't I ever heard about it in History of Magic, or any of the books you gave me?"

Gurnok laughed bitterly."Would have caused too many issues with the goblins. It was actually Gryffindor's sword and after his death, it should have gone back to its creator, Ragnuk. But of course, the goblins only heard of a sword named Excalibur wielded by some petty lord."

"Didn't Ragnuk try to steal the sword back off Gryffindor?" asked Harry, before jumping back a step as Gurnok growled.

"Godric Gryffindor enchanted it to prevent its return on his death. Does that not sound like theft to you?" Harry nodded quickly. "Then of course he threatened to kill all the goblins if anyone tried to retrieve it. A great wizard indeed." Gurnok laughed humourlessly, before softening his expression. "Sorry Harry. It's still a sore point for us."

"So, where is Camelot anyway?" Harry asked, hoping this would distract the angered goblin. Gurnok shrugged.

"No one knows. It was a heavily warded little patch of dirt broken apart by the squabbling of two siblings. Virtually no one lived there. We think that Arthur was trying to create a society of muggles ruled over by wizard lords, but wasn't having much luck."

"Really?" Harry had obviously never heard this discussed before. "I thought Merlin wanted to protect muggles. Wasn't he part of Arthur's court?"

Gurnok nodded "He did and he was. Arthur's entire army was made up of muggle knights and soldiers, apart from one wizard knight and Merlin. They got flattened by a rape victim who'd been pushed too far and her son. I say good riddance to the lot of them. Shame we can't find the sword though. We think its still behind Camelot's wards, though we could be wrong about the entire thing."

Harry nodded quietly. After meeting some wizarding nobility, he doubted Arthur's idea was a good one. He'd never really liked Arthur when he'd read about him in English. He'd seemed far too self obsessed and petty. "So, what's so special about the sword? What made it worth all the trouble?"

Gornuk grinned and his eyes lit up on the subject of weapons. "Goes straight through plate mail or dragon scale like butter. It's light too and it can shape itself to the wielder. Your knife is a good deal less impressive, but works off the same concept."

"How so?"

Gornuk smiled. "You favour a heavy knife, even more so than old Griphook did. When I gave it to you, it started to look less like a dagger and more like an early Bowie knife. I'd hate to see the sort of damage you could do with that thing." Harry paled and Gurnok realised he'd said the wrong thing. "That doesn't mean you have to, Mr Potter. It probably just means you would favour a short sword over a knife, but a knife can't become a sword, though a sword may be broken and become a knife."

Harry nodded, not entirely convinced, then paused. Someone was wading towards them along the edge of the lake.

"Oh, hello Potter," said Goyle, coming to a sudden halt as he rounded the bend of the lake and the trees. This could go poorly. "Didn't know anyone else..."

He trailed off as soon as he saw the goblin, who stepped forward smoothly to greet him. "I am Mr Gurnok, Mr Potter's account manager. We were just discussing some financial matters since I was in the area. If that is all Mr Potter, I bid you good day." With that Gornuk walked away from the edge of the lake, back along the path to the school. Goyle stood there quietly, taking it all in.

"Goyle, would you mind not telling anyone about this?"

Goyle shifted uneasily, but nodded. "Sure Potter. I don't want to get involved in the affairs of goblins any more than I have to. Its your business, not mine."

Perhaps the Slytherin wasn't so bad after all. "Thanks. See you Goyle," he called out behind him as he turned toward the path.

"Later Potter." Harry couldn't help but note the thoughtful tone in Goyle's voice, but for the first time wasn't worried about it.

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"Harry, did you hear anything about goblins in the school?" asked Neville as Harry sat down in an armchair. "There have been rumours running around all day." No mention of Harry however. That probably meant Goyle was as good as his word.

Harry shook his head and pulled his Maths text out of his bag. Ron rolled his eyes. "Why are you learning that Harry? Its not even set school work." Ron was not an academic and Harry doubted he ever would be. If Harry was right, he expected Ron to become a magical builder or something along those lines. Many of those spells were complicated, but most were based more on practical than theoretical knowledge. Harry thought about some of the buildings on Diagon Alley. Most were far too large on the inside and Harry reckoned that there was all kinds of magic worked into the wood and stone of that street.

"I'm planning on taking Arithmancy in my upper years. Its meant to be really hard, but I think half the problem is that most witches and wizards don't take muggle mathematics outside of primary school."

Ron's eyes widened in understanding. "Okay, okay. Still makes me think I'm sitting with Hermione though." Harry smiled at that. "Why are you thinking so far ahead anyway."

Harry thought before answering. If he was completely honest with himself, he wanted to impress Gornuk, but he couldn't tell Ron that. "They seem more useful than the other electives, that's all. I lived with muggles most of my life, I don't want to be eaten by big monsters and tea leaf reading sounds like the most stupid subject ever. At least you can use Arithmancy and Ancient Runes to create your own spells and wards."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Personally, I always thought Care of Magical Creatures sounded cool. One of my brothers is a dragon handler in Romania and he told me it was great."

"Maybe, but its not what I want to do."

"What do you want to do Harry?" Ron asked, leant forward.

Harry shrugged. "Don't know. Haven't really thought about it yet."

Ron nodded in understanding. "I know what I would like to do," he stated happily, a cheeky smile on his face. Harry groaned. He was pretty certain he knew what Ron was about to say. "Play for the Chuddley Cannons. Either that or become a world famous chess champion."

"But Ron, what are you going to do if you can't do that?"

Ron shrugged, grinning. "Don't know. Haven't really thought about it yet."


	12. Lupin

**AN: Updated and betad.**

**Disclaimer: You know it.**

Gurnok had finally got hold of Remus and somehow convived him to come to a meeting. Pity it was already looking to go like his meeting with Moody and they hadn't even started yet. "Mr Lupin," he said politely. "Thank you for replying to my inquiry about offering you a job. Are you interested?"

"So, trying to use my lack of employment to get information out of me, Mr Gurnok?" Gornuk blinked slowly. Remus was clearly angry and Gurnok knew it was only a few days to full moon, so he chose to ignore the outburst.

"I can understand why you might think that, Mr Lupin,but believe me, the offer is quite genuine. In fact, your integrity in dealing with my other requests was what brought you to my attention. Not many men are willing to turn down that much money, especially men in your position."

Lupin's eyebrow raised."Really?"

Gurnok sighed. He could see the reason for the man's distrust, but it definitely was not going to make his job easy. "Mr Lupin, I'm going to be honest with you. When I first came to you for information I looked over a file we had composed on you for another client." Remus bristled at this and Gurnok winced internally. "It had records of your time in school, former employment, licenses, basically anything relevant to who you are that our brokers could find."

"You had no right-"

Gurnok cut him off. "It does not matter that I had no right, merely that I did so. What I saw is that your integrity and dignity dealing with a world actively hostile to your kind has been exemplary."

Remus relaxed slightly. "That still doesn't explain why you're offering me a job with such a high level of trust."

Gornuk shrugged. He decided a little more honesty wouldn't hurt his case. "Its a favour to the client I mentioned earlier. Not that he knows that, but all things considered I think he'd approve." Remus' eyes narrowed.

"Who is this client? Sirius Black? Has he been working to get out of prison?"

Gornuk laughed gently. "No. Not Black." Gornuk thought for a moment. "More of a friend I care dearly about and that I know you care for too." Remus' eyes widened suddenly. He'd made a connection based on something Gurnok had said, but he couldn't guess what.

"Harry Potter?"

Gurnok nodded, taken aback but unwilling to show it. "I trust you'll keep this confidential. I don't exactly trust Albus Dumbledore and the man takes far too great an interest in the boy's affairs."

"And what of your interest?" said Remus, looking slightly calmer.

"The boy is the main reason I'm still alive. He's an incredible young man and I wish to see him do well. Do we have an agreement? You'd be working for Harry's betterment."

Lupin was thinking about it, he could tell that much. The man's emotions flashed across his face at such speed he was impossible to read. Gurnok became tense as the minutes stretched out, until suddenly, Lupin decided. "What's the job?"

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"So you have everything you need Remus?" Ted Tonks had been helping Remus set up in the old Griphook property for the last few days, but was still eager to do more.

"Mr Gurnok still hasn't told me what I'll be selling," replied Lupin.

"I'm not surprised. Rest assured nothing illegal will be sold. It'll probably be stuff from the vaults of deceased wizards with no living relatives knowing the goblins." Ted smiled.

Remus looked at the basement door. "I've been instructed not to touch the basement. Why is that?"

Ted shrugged. "I don't know. If its a goblin owned house, the basement might be another entire apartment or house underneath ground level."

"I got the impression it was owned by Gornuk's client."

"Really? I've always found it best not to ask." Ted stretched. "Well, I'll leave you to your own devices, Mr Lupin. I'll see you round. Call me if you need any more help."

"Thanks Ted," said Remus grinning and shaking his hand. "You've been a lot of help already."

It killed him to not know what was behind the basement door. Remus paused for a moment. Gornuk had seemed trustworthy enough, but part of him couldn't help wondering if he'd made a mistake. He was a goblin; what interest would he have in a human? Moreover, what did he want for Harry? The bell jingled on the front door and Remus started.

"Hey Dad," called a clear loud girl's voice. "Are you still here? You said we'd meet for lunch, remember?" It must be Ted's daughter. Remus wandered through the house to the storefront to find a very pretty woman, not a girl, standing at the counter. A very unusual woman at that. Electric blue hair, purple leather jacket and pants and a white T-shirt for the Miskatonic University Quadpot team.

"Oh. I guess from you expression he's already left, hasn't he?" The girl stepped forwards, dark eyes twinkling. "I'm Tonks. You must be Remus Lupin. Dad told me about you."

"You have a first name, Tonks?" he said, grinning. He was pretty certain he'd get a rise out of her from what Ted had said.

"No."

"Okay then." Well, that was disappointing

The girl glanced around, looking at the store. "What you do here?" she asked curiously.

Remus laughed."I don't know to be perfectly honest. The goblins just offered me a job and I accepted."

Tonks looked at him edgeways. "And you accepted just like that? No questions?"

Remus grimaced. "Well a few, but I didn't have much of a choice." Tonks nodded silently. "So what do you do Tonks?"

The girl's eyes lit up. "I'm only just out of school and I'm already into Auror training." Her grin was infectious.

"So what are you doing in the mean time?" Remus had to admit, he was really impressed. She hadn't looked the type, but then again, neither had James.

"I'm kind of living off my parent's charity at the moment," she said, shifting uncomfortably. Remus chuckled and she mock glared at him from under her fringe. "You can hardly talk, can you?"

Remus stiffened and looked away. "I guess so." He knew he shouldn't be so sensitive on the topic, but it still hurt.

Tonks leant into his vision. "Are you ok? I didn't mean to bring up a sore topic." Remus shrugged, not looking her in the eye. "I was just joking... oh." Her eyes had settled on his scars and he winced. Here came the disgust. "I'm so sorry... I didn't know. I'll leave."

"Its fine, I get it," Remus said, cutting her off. "You didn't mean anything by it." And he could tell she really didn't. It didn't seem to bother her at all. More than anything else, she looked embarrassed at her tactlessness.

"So... I better go find Dad. Maybe I'll see you round?"

Remus smiled weakly. "That'd be nice. See you Tonks."

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	13. Troll

**AN: Expanded and betad**

**Disclaimer: Do I still have to do this?**

Harry, Ron and Neville were spending the Halloween feast scrubbing out the toilets in the girl's bathroom. It was their own fault really. Well, really it was Harry's. He shouldn't have reacted he knew.

"Didn't you love the look on Malfoy's face?" asked Ron, scrubbing away at a stubborn patch of soup scum in one of the sinks. Harry knew Ron would rather be at the feast, but was doing his best to look on the bright side of things. "It was like you'd never hit him before, Harry. Last time he ever calls someone mudblood."

"It got me hit though," piped up Neville. He was a little bit bitter at Harry for that one. "I was just standing there, then Goyle pops me one out of nowhere. Not a nice guy."

"Goyle was pulling his punches Neville. He's much nicer than Crabbe anyway. He just acts up how stupid he is. I don't think he likes Malfoy much."

Neville eyed him dubiously. "If you say so." Neville stood up straight at his sink when he heard someone open the door. "The bathroom is closed for cleaning. You'll have to find somewhere else."

"Its me guys," said Hermione, looking around frantically. "We have to go now! Hasn't anyone cpme to get you yet?"

Harry felt a chill ran down his spine. "What's going on Hermione?"

"Someone let a troll into the school! We have to get back to Gryffindor tower right now." A troll? Harry's blood ran cold. Trolls were massive creatures with thick skins and thicker skulls. How the hell would one get into a school?

Harry glanced up and a sudden sound. "Too late." The troll, a great lumbering beast with large ears and no clothes aside from a loincloth wandered into the room, dragging a large club behind it. How on earth had it managed to be so quiet. It was like had materialised behind Hermione out of thin air. Looking around slowly, its eyes alighted on their bushy haired friend.

What was he meant to do? They hadn't studied troll's yet... Harry's eyes saw the troll reach for her as if in slow motion and suddenly realised what they could do."Noise!" yelled Harry, pointing his wand at big ears and pumping out the loudest, flashiest spell he could think of. The others quickly followed suit and the troll was surrounded with flashing lights and a cacophony of explosions.

Troll dropped its club and clutched at its ears, roaring in pain and Hermione, Ron and Neville ran for the door as it staggered towards one of the side walls, attempting to regain it's balance. Harry however was trapped by the far wall and the troll was now staggering towards him. He shouldn't have made himself such a target. One of its eyes had opened slightly and fixed on Harry. As it took a step towards Harry, its arm reached out, grabbing at him and missing by less than a foot. Harry pushed himself flush against the wall in fear.

"Harry! Run!" at the sound of Hermione's voice Harry snapped out of the haze of fear and flew into action without thinking. He stepped inside its reach, just like he did when Dudley's friend Piers was trying to punch him and palmed his knife, before jamming it with all of his might into the side of the troll's knee, just behind the kneecap. The troll bellowed in pain and Harry managed to wrench his knife free, surprisingly free of blood, just before the troll collapsed, hitting the floor with a ground shaking thud. The poor creature then found itself being bombarded with more noise and light as the rest of Harry's friends realised they'd left him behind and doubled back.

Harry grabbed Ron's hand and was dragged out the door as the others kept up a stream of fire aimed a the troll. The four ran down the corridor to the sounds of the troll destroying the entire bathroom in a blind rage.

"Mr Potter!" Professor McGonagall stared at Harry in abject horror. Harry quickly concealed his knife and looked down at his robes. They were covered in sticky, rusty red patches. "Are you alright?"

Harry noticed Professor Snape and Quirrell coming up behind her. Snape looked shocked. However, Harry flinched at the look on Quirrell's face. It was absolute fury. Harry remembered the teacher's trouble with his arm during the first weeks of term and finally made the obvious connection. He was in a school being taught by a murderer, a murderer who resented Harry for ruining his plans at Gringotts and possibly here too. He forced himself to remain calm.

"What was that Professor?"

McGonagall looked at him worriedly. "Are you hurt?"

"No miss. Its not my blood. Its troll blood miss. I stabbed it with a bit of toilet." Telling them he carried a knife around probably wasn't a good idea. The professors stared at him.

"I will take the students to the hospital wing then return with the others. Quinius, Severus, mind the troll."

Harry followed Professor McGonagall in a daze, shaking as the adrenaline slowly wore off. The thief who murdered Griphook was in the school and he had no proof. Gurnok had told Harry to keep his head down. He'd keep his head down alright. That didn't mean he wouldn't contact Gurnok. Harry doubted he'd be able to get anything done without help and frankly didn't want to get involved.

"Mr Potter?" Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall looking at him. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

"Don't trust Quirrell."

Her brow furrowed. "Mr Potter?"

"He was furious when he saw me. Talk to Gurnok. He's my account manager at Gringotts. He knows more about this than anyone. Tell him about Quirrell's arm at the start of term." McGonagall stared at Harry.

"What have you gotten yourself into Harry?" The fear in McGonagall's voice was evident.

"Nothing miss," replied Harry, sitting down hard on the hospital bed. "Just tell Gornuk. He told me that bad things were going on at Hogwarts and to keep my head down." Harry's throat was drying up. "Apparently Dumbledore had something moved here. They think he was using it as bait for a thief and I'm telling you, Quirrell is that thief."

The professor stared at him, emotions carefully schooled. "For the moment Potter, focus on resting. I will contact your friend. Oh, and Mr Potter?" Harry looked up. "Tell your friends that you've all earned fifty points for extreme bravery. Goodnight, Mr Potter."


	14. An Angry Goblin

**AN: That last chapter gave me so much trouble writing it. Sorry it was so rushed, but I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Disclaimer:...**

"HARRY FOUGHT A TROLL?"

Professor McGonagall flinched back, staring at the goblin who was shaking with rage. She swallowed nervously. "Mr Potter is fine, but we sent him to the hospital wing to be sure, along with Miss Granger, Mr Longbottom and Weasley." McGonagall was certain she could see the goblin's eye twitch.

"Neville Longbottom? The boy Harry had to carry to the hospital wing after his training broom SLAMMED INTO A WALL?" McGonagall had the good grace to look shame faced. "What has your school been doing this year? Is Dumbledore actively trying to kill his students?" Gurnok stopped speaking, closed his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry Professor. Please continue."

McGonagall was certain she could here a sneer in his voice but pushed on regardless. "Mr Gurnok, I'm only here at Harry's request. Harry told me to tell you about a teacher named Quirinus Quirrell. Harry's taken it into his head that Professor Quirrell had something to do with the troll. He told me to tell you about the man's arm of all things." She snorted dismissively. "I believed the boy to be distressed, but felt I owed it to the lad to talk with you before I went to Dumbledore, given all he had gone through."

Gurnok went very still. "His arm? His right arm?"

McGonagall's brow furrowed. "Yes. How did you know?"

Gurnok's hands shook. "Do you remember when Rubeus Hagrid was hospitalised Professor? That was not as was said at the time, an old trap." Professor McGonagall's mouth tightened. "A man somehow got past our wards and took me hostage, in an attempt to take the Philosopher's Stone from the vault that Hagrid was about to visit with Harry Potter. The man slammed Mr Hagrid into a wall and killed their goblin escort. I was only saved when Harry stabbed the man in the arm. The right forearm to be exact."

McGonagall was furious. "And you told no one of this? Not even Dumbledore or Flamel?"

"And you told no one of the troll. None of the parents? Just me?" Gurnok's sneer was worthy of Snape. "I do not trust Albus Dumbledore. I know Dumbledore is responsible for Harry's well-being. He controls Harry's bank vaults. I also know that when I met Harry, the boy was dressed in rags, malnourished and had glasses several years too old."

McGonagall's guilt spread unbidden across her face.

"I see you too had a hand in this, Professor?" Gurnok stated coldly. "A little too much faith in your great wizards perhaps?" McGonagall's eyes hardened.

"You've made your point. Unfortunately, we have no proof of what Harry said. He also said you believed that Dumbledore was using the stone as bait. Bait for what?"

Gurnok shrugged. "Nothing good." The goblin stood up and began pacing. "We can't prove anything and we can't move Harry because most schools won't except transfers at all." McGonagall squinted at the goblin curiously.

"You didn't mention that you have control over Harry's guardians, Mr Gurnok."

Gurnok grinned. "I have his uncle's gonads in a vice. We have... information that the muggle Tax Department might be very interested to know."

McGonagall blinked slowly. "You're blackmailing the Dursleys." It was not a question.

"Had I known the danger Dumbledore would put Harry and the other students into, I would have had him sent to Beauxbatons or Miskatonic University. At least at Miskatonic they know how to handle dangerous creatures."

"I seriously doubt Dumbledore would endanger the lives of his students." Gornuk laughed harshly.

"Do you really believe Dumbledore doesn't know it was Quirrell? He's the most important wizard in government. Whatever he has planned he feels is important enough that placing a valuable item in a school full of students to capture one man. If there's a little collateral damage it will not matter to him. The man killed his own sister for God's sake." Gurnok sat back down. "Professor, I expect you to keep a close eye on Harry. Do not tell Dumbledore of this. It would be unpleasant for you if you did. Let Dumbledore's little scheme take place provided it does not harm Harry, but the moment it does, take action to stop it."

McGonagall nodded stiffly. She could tell the goblin's threat was serious and his affection for the boy seemed surprisingly genuine. What he'd said of Dumbledore also hit close enough to the mark that he could be right. "Very well."

As she stood to leave, the goblin put out his hand to stop her."And one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Don't ever sneak into my office as a cat again. The consequences would be unpleasant."

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Remus looked down from his work, shelving another book. The goblins had apparently a large supply of books belonging to long dead families that they were interested in selling. The business was looking to be very lucrative already. And there was another customer. "I'll be with you in a minute," he called.

"Heya Remus." Tonks was standing behind him, in her Miskatonic T-shirt and bright green jeans which matched her hair and eye colour.

"Oh, hello Tonks." Remus smiled down at her from his ladder. "I didn't think you'd come back."

Tonks grinned. "Well I said I would, didn't I? Anyway, there's a pretty good view from down here that's worth seeing."

Remus flushed, suddenly embarrassed. Tonks winked suggestively, before laughing and and looking around the store.

"So," she said staring at a shelf full of books on nocturnal plants, "You're a bookseller now?"

"Yeah, they came in today with a note from Gringotts." Remus quickly put the last few in place before sliding down the ladder. "So, anything I can do for you today Tonks?"

She grinned widely. "You're going to need a store hand to manage in a shop this big. Not all the time mind you, but there are a lot of gaps in my Auror training course and I need the money."

Remus' eyes widened in horror. "Oh no. No no no no no. You'll spend the entire time teasing me."

"And what's wrong with that?" The fact that you make me feel like a dirty old man thought Remus. "My spunk will help, honestly. I can keep people entertained for hours."

"This isn't that kind of shop, Tonks. We're selling musty old books to very rich wizards, not magazines to teenagers."

Tonks laughed. "Not a problem." Tonks frowned in concentration and Remus watched in amazement. Before his eyes, Tonks became the splitting image of Helen Mirren. "I'll have to get the clothes to work with a look like this, but what do you think? Serious enough? I'm certain the rich old wizards will like it. All kidding aside Remus, I can behave, honest. I'd just like a little spending money, that's all."

Remus nodded dumbly at the metamorphmagus for a few seconds. "Fine. You can have a job."

He was treated to the sight of Helen Mirren jumping up and down on the spot in very unladylike fashion. "You won't regret this Remus. When should I come in? I'm free on Thursdays Fridays and the weekend."

"Why not then? Come in at half past eight if you can."

"Okay," she said, smiling. "I'll see you at work then.

Remus watched Tonks walk out of the store, back in her usual face. Tonks was probably the only witch who wouldn't react negatively about the werewolf thing, but that 'spunk' could be the death of him. He didn't need to go falling for an eighteen year old girl.

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	15. Overheard conversations

**AN: Updated and betad**

**Disclaimer: Its still there.**

"Moody, I need a word."

Moody looked up to find a very angry Scot looking at him across his desk. "Minerva. Nice to see you've come down from that God awful place. What do you want?" Moody shifted his weight, making certain his wooden leg was a little more comfortable.

Minerva took a seat, managing to actually look comfortable in the stiff backed chair he'd bought for the other side of his desk. "I've just had a very strange conversation with a goblin named Gurnok, who has taken a peculiar amount of interest in Harry Potter."

Moody swung both eyes to face Minerva. "Gurnok? Red hair, dark eyes, fussy little suit?"

Minerva twitched. "You've met?"

Moody nodded thoughtfully. "Wanted information on the Black case, since he couldn't find anything in the official records. I told him nothing. Do you have any idea why he might want to know?"

Minerva shook her head. "That's not why I'm here Alastor. I want to know anything Dumbledore told you about the Philosopher's Stone and Hogwarts."

"Honestly Minerva, I don't know much more than you do," lied Moody smoothly. "Was there anything in particular?"

"Gurnok... he gave me quite a story..."

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"So let me get this straight? Quirinus Quirrell is going after the stone which Dumbledore is using as bait, Harry has a mysterious goblin protector blackmailing his guardians and Harry somehow became Harry Potter Griphook?"

Minerva thought for a moment. "That about sums it up, yes."

Moody sat back thinking hard. On the one hand, Dumbledore had asked him not to tell. On the other, the situation was becoming far too complicated. Minerva was one of the most righteous women he knew and the fact that Harry had become a target meant that he needed to make a decision.

"The bait part is true. Dumbledore didn't tell me what, but he was after someone who would want the stone and could do some serious damage with it. He implied it was one of You-Know-Who's supporters. He probably knew it was Quirrell before the start of term."

"What!" Minerva looked outraged. "How could he stage such a dangerous plan at Hogwarts? Now that Harry is at school too."

Moody shrugged. "We thought we would be able to trap the bastard with the Mirror of Erised. We had planned to move it from the Department of Mysteries, then enchant it to hide the stone. He must have decided to unleash that troll as a distraction and steal it early."

"How would the Mirror of Erised help? Showing someone their heart's desire doesn't sound that useful to me."

"The thief would have known it was inside the Mirror and to get the stone it has to be your heart's desire. But, and this is the clever part, he wouldn't have been able to get it since he wanted to use it as well. That'd include wanting to give it to someone for a reward. The room was going to have enchantments to compel anyone present to keep trying." Moody grinned. "Dumbledore was going to 'be called away to the ministry on important business' if the plan went right and come back with a full compliment of Aurors."

"And this is why the obstacles to the stone were so pathetic? To make Quirrell complacent?" asked Minerva, thinking hard.

"Yep."

"That actually doesn't sound entirely stupid, Moody."

Moody chuckled. "Don't be too complimentary. Its not my plan."

Neither of them noticed a man with very large ears in a thumb sized portrait leave the room. That the portrait was built into the wall and had a thin covering of enchanted lead based paint didn't help. It had appeared just a few days before the start of school during ministry maintenance and though he couldn't see a thing, he didn't have to. His hearing was excellent. Of course, the paint did make it difficult to hear every detail, but he knew his great nephew needed to know he'd been found out. He only wished he'd be around to hear more.

"So, now that we've cleared that up, I think we both need to have another word with our dear Mr Gurnok." McGonagall stood up and reached out, offering Moody her hand.

"It might be an idea. He sounds like a useful man to have in our corner and I want to ask about all this Sirius nonsense."

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"I'm afraid Mr and Mrs Dursley that your son has been caught vandalising school property," said the Smeltings headmaster in his best 'this is a serious incident' voice. He remembered Vernon from his time at Smeltings when he'd only been a teacher and had to say that his son was growing up just like him. That was to say, a brutish oaf who needed his ears boxed.

Dudley Dursley rolled his eyes and Vernon sputtered indignantly. "How dare you accuse my son-"

"I'm not accusing your son of anything, Mr Dursley," said the headmaster impatiently. "I'm telling you that two school prefects and the entire swimming team found him scrawling, and I quote, 'Swimmers suck big-"

"Now, now headmaster," piped up Vernon's horse-faced wife. "I'm quite sure we don't need to hear that."

The headmaster sighed. He hate dealing with parents like this. Two kinds of people sent their children to Smeltings. One group wanted their children to have the best education possible. The other wanted the prestige the school provided. "Your son is proving to be a problem. This is only the latest incident and not even-"

The wall of the headmaster's office shattered, showering the Dursleys with chunks of stone. The headmaster saw Mrs Dursley grabbing Dudley, dragging him to the ground, and Vernon lying unconscious on the floor. What really caught his eye was the man standing in the opening.

A robed man in a purple turban stepped through the hole. His face was plain, almost normal. His eyes however, were full of rage. Rage directed at the Dursleys, lying on the ground. In his hand was a simple stick, which seemed to vibrate with power. The headmaster ducked behind his desk before the man saw him. He wasn't certain what was going on, but he knew he couldn't be seen by the tall man.

"Now, I've been having a really bad day," started the madman, spittle flying from his lips. "And I'm pretty certain I can trace it all back to the day your mewling little nephew first went to Gringotts. Since I can't kill your pathetic excuse for a relative, I figured I'd take it out on you instead." The man was clearly deranged, the headmaster could tell. Could he get to the phone without being seen?

"Wait pl-" Mrs Dursley was cut of by a slapping sound and he heard her reel back.

"So sorry for the inconvenience. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Green light flashed in the room and the headmaster bit down a yelp. There was a thump and suddenly he could see Mrs Dursley's face, caught in a moment of terror, staring blankly at the ceiling. A moment later there came another green blast and she was joined by her son. Finally, there was a wet sound and the sound of a gurgling scream.

"Hope you enjoy your last few minutes looking at your family's dead bodies," came the madman's voice. Then there was a pop and he was gone, leaving dust swirling in the air. The headmaster got up from his hiding place and quickly checked the Dursley's vitals. Dudley and Mrs Dursley were dead, with no sign of a cause. Vernon however, was still struggling to breathe.

He rushed over and clamped a hand of over the wound in Vernon's chest. "Hold on Dursley damn it. You are not dying on me, you hearing me in there. I'm going to get you help." The headmaster was about to reach for the phone with his free hand, when a long bearded stranger stepped into the office from outside the building.

The stranger looked around the room in shock. "Oh no. This is wrong. They should have been safe." Tears filled his eyes. "They should have been safe."


	16. The Aftermath

**Disclaimer: I'm not getting anything from this, except for experience and sweet sweet reviews, Thanks guys.**

Nearly ten hours later, Quirrell shakily sat down in a room off the main Chamber of Secrets. The handy hole it created in the Hogwarts anti-apparation wards should have meant nobody noticed his absence. He stared at the network of portraits covering the wall to the right of his desk. All were thumb sized little patches of blue. Only one was currently occupied. Big Ears stood, looking nervous.

"What else happened?" snapped Quirrell irritably.

The portrait winced at his tone. "They have someone searching Moody's office for bugs. I want to alert the others that they might be at risk."

Quirrell closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. Damn them! "Have they found your portrait yet?"

"It won't be long," replied Big Ears. "Its some old goblin going by the name of Afe Senior. He's nearly past the first perception filter."

Quirrell nodded. "Very well. Alert the portraits in the teachers' offices that they might be compromised." As Big Ears left the room, Quirrell swore.

"Manners Quirrell," said a smooth, silky voice. "Relax. Killing those muggle vermin should have relieved all this stress."

"Yes Master," replied Quirrell quickly. Killing the boy's family hadn't done anything for his nerves. If anything, they were worse. He shouldn't have done it. It was reckless, so unlike him. "But I fear that someone discovered our spy network because of it. Why else would Moody have his room scanned? I should have killed Vernon Dursley."

"They would have been found sooner or later," replied the voice dismissively. "Those portraits were a clever idea. Never knew a former 'Muggle Studies' professor could be so... cunning. I could never be bothered with going through all those muggle records myself."

Quirrell bit his metaphorical tongue. Later would have been better. It had taken days setting up most of the trickier to hide portraits and he'd only been able to do it under the cover of seeking out new material for his classes. His 'lord' was completely ignorant of anything he saw as beneath him.

"What are you thinking Quirrell?" came the dark lord's voice, edged with annoyance.

"Nothing my lord," he replied hurriedly. "Only that the stone no longer seems to be an option."

A hiss grated across his consciousness. "Of course I know that Quirrell! Dumbledore will obviously have it booby trapped in more than one way. The mirror was clever, but the stone will have probably be poisonous, explosive or who knows what else. Crafty old alchemist." There was a hint of grudging respect in his Lordship's voice. "We'll have to find a new solution to the problem. Teaching at Hogwarts is too restrictive. We will continue to operate out of the chamber, but focus our efforts on more useful projects."

"Such as, My Lord?"

"You'll see Quirrell." The voice sounded tired. "For now, I need sustenance."

Quirrell cringed. "Yes My Lord." He wished he'd never found the man's evil shade.

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"Quirrell had my office bugged." Moody stood, having refused a chair. "He'd hidden a tiny portrait behind some enchantments I'd never even heard of."

They were in the headmaster's office, the one place Quirrell couldn't have reached for long enough to bug. Dumbledore sat at his desk, faced by Minerva, Severus, Moody and Gornuk. Gornuk was a new addition to the circle, one that Dumbledore didn't quite have the measure off, but after the colossal lack of communication that had led to Petunia and Dudley's deaths, he could no longer leave afford to leave anyone out of the loop.

"Are we positive it was Quirrell?" Asked Minerva. "How did you know he was behind the attack?"

"I questioned the headmaster before obliviating him. Apparently Quirrell didn't see him. How many Englishmen do you know whowear bright purple turbans? I placed life tracking charms on the Dursley's a while back." Dumbledore gestured at a small clock, which had one hand and the broken shafts of two more. He ran his hand over his face. "I'm sorry I didn't inform you of my plan Minerva. I was hoping to play this one close to the chest."

"The boy's uncle will live?"asked Snape, his face carefully neutral.

Dumbledore nodded. "He's alive, but permanently crippled. Harry should be safe from the ministry, provided we keep the truth from them. What we need is somewhere for them to live safely."

Gornuk sat forward. "I might have a solution. I bought a house on the outside of Diagon Alley under Griphook's name and connected it up to the basement house. I've been throwing up heavy warding and concealment spells in my spare time with Afe Junior."

"Can we trust Afe Junior? And more importantly, how do we handle Vernon Dursley?" Moody had his magic eye trained on Gornuk and his normal eye on Dumbledore.

Gurnok smiled grimly. "The man's a cripple with enough potential financial charges hanging over his head to sink Grunnings and him. We'll make it clear to Dursley he doesn't have a choice. As for Afe, the man's a saint, even by human standards. He won't talk."

"Do we even need Dursley?" said Snape, his lip curling.

Dumbledore sighed "Vernon is still Harry's legal guardian and it could be dangerous for Harry if it was known his guardian was being changed. Who knows who might have a go at taking control of his life." Dumbledore glanced at Gurnok. "You're in contact with Remus Lupin aren't you? I know he would like to help set everything up."

Gornuk nodded. "I'll contact him and Ted Tonks as well. I'm pretty certain he'd also help." Gurnok's face fell. "How is Harry coping? I didn't get a good chance to look in on him."

Minerva grimaced. "Not well," she said sadly.

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Harry had managed to lose his friends back at the castle and was currently making his way down to the lake. He knew a spot no-one else, not even the intrepid explorer Goyle had found. He didn't want to have to deal with anyone else at the moment, not even Neville.

Harry still wasn't certain he'd ever loved his Aunt or cousin but he couldn't help feel something. Hollow, that was it. Hollow. He had a hole inside him, one that had always been there but had suddenly become larger. He'd lost the only family he'd ever known. Not that they'd ever acted like family, but they'd been the only one he'd had. Vernon didn't count somehow, not really.

Harry found the knife in his hand. Looking at it, Harry could see that Gornuk was right. The blade had both lengthened and widened and a second shorter edge was sharpening along the back. The guard had changed shape, thickening over where the knuckles sat. Most unusual of all, the handle and inner guard were becoming coated in some sort of grey leather-like material with an odd texture. This wasn't Griphook's knife, not any more.

Harry sat, back against a tree. He wasn't certain what it meant. Probably nothing and his mind was just finding things to read into. Harry stared at the knife. There was only one purpose for a knife like this and that was killing. Not mere animals, but something intelligent. Well, if Harry got the opportunity he would make sure that purpose was fulfilled. Harry would kill Quirrell if he ever saw him again. He was sure of it.


	17. August Derleth

**AN: Expanded and betad.**

**Disclaimer: Up in the description.**

"So if theses blood wards of Dumbledore's are down why would we need to put him back with Vernon Dursley? The man's a real vicious bastard. I remember meeting him once in the street. He did nothing to stop his son's behaviour. In fact he encouraged it."

Gornuk sighed. The werewolf was a suspicious one, that was for certain, but he did have a point. There was no blood relationship between Harry and the horrid man to tie the wards to. "Its politically the safest option for him according to Dumbledore. We don't need the Wizengamot on our backs. Who knows what they would do? Plus, the way we're arranging things they never need seeing each other."

Remus nodded, calming down a little to Gornuk's relief. "Very well. I'll continue looking after _Mr Griphook's _property." The werewolf looked conflicted. "Can I see him? The ministry always blocked my requests on account of my... condition." Lupin was in a difficult situation, legally. Frankly, Harry's guardianship had been a legal grey area before all of this. When he'd jumped in back then it had been disastrous for him. As a werewolf he couldn't be around minors under eleven.

Gurnok smiled kindly at the werewolf, who was quickly becoming a favourite of his."If _Mr Griphook _deigns to open his door to you, the ministry need never know," he replied, nodding at the basement. "I don't doubt he will Lupin. Harry's a good boy and he'll want to meet you." Gurnok stared around, looking for another topic. "How is the business, by the way?"

Remus smiled, obviously pleased with himself. "It's going well. We're already establishing quite a decent clientelle and managed to rent out two more of those rooms. Neither them is planning on living there permanently, but they're pulling in money."

Gurnok smirked. More money flowing into the Griphook vault, with a tidy commission for Remus and himself. "Excellent. You have enough staff? I heard you only have one part-time worker."

"Yeah. I only need Tonks around occasionally, but she's has been a godsend, apart from the occasional accident. Don't tell anyone I told you this but she's quite clumsy."

Gornuk's eyebrow rose. "Ted's daughter? I've never really known her, but she always seemed nice enough. Glad she has some work before becoming an auror." Remus smiled. "I think I've caught her making eyes at you, you know."

Lupin looked flustered, stammering out a reply which left Gornuk laughing. "No need to be so shy Remus. Personally, I think you should go for it. Even if it doesn't work out you're both mature adults, judging from your behaviour and Ted's stories of her. I'm sure you'd be able to remain good friends." Gornuk left Remus staring open-mouthed, grinning. It was fun stirring the pot.

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_August Derleth,_

_Librarian, _

_Miskatonic University, _

_Arkham, Massachusetts_

_Dear August,_

_Hoping this letter find you well and all that clap trap. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I have an issue I would like to ask for your help with. A personal friend of mine was until recently under the protection of blood wards. Unfortunately due to an incident involving the boy's relatives, these wards have shattered._

_What I ask of you is that you and your colleagues help me determine ways to conceal my friend's presence from a man who wishes him harm. I have reason to believe from my friend's correspondence that he may have an unnatural connection, possibly with this man. I have talked to our nation's expert in the field and though I believe he knows the reason for this, he seems unwilling to prevent this._

_This is not a request from Gringotts but an appeal from one friend to another. The friend is human and though he has good relations with Gringotts, so I will be paying for any expenses and not the bank. Please contact me at your earliest convenience._

_On another note, how are you finding those texts from the Griphook estate? Anything of interest? I've heard Bogrod mention there might be another pile coming your way soon, so you might have your hands full soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Willan Monard Gornuk,_

_Account Manager, _

_Gringotts Bank London Branch._

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August Derleth was out at lunch in a nice little restaurant on Saltonstall St, a little way from the university. He pulled out Gurnok's letter and thumbed it open. Short and terse. That wasn't a good sign. Gornuk was generally a friendly man, especially for a goblin, who could fill pages with everyday events and stories. If he was this worried... He read the request and frowned.

The fact was that given their environment, Arkham's inhabitants and most of the north of Wizarding America was fairly isolationist. So much so that apart from the occasional sporting team, most of the northerners never left their communities for fear of darker entities waiting. Not the sort of things muggles had much to fear of, but the sort that had wiped out the majority of the Native American magic users. Northern America was still struggling to put down some of these... things. Things that Europe had seen put down by Roman wizards, things that men feared to speak of.

His brow furrowed as he reread the letter. Unnatural connection? That sounded ominous, especially from a goblin. He doubted Gornuk knew the full ramifications of what he termed an 'unnatural connection'. It could be any number of things. August Derleth was not an unfeeling man. However, given his vital responsibilities, he could not very well abandon his post or ask a colleague to travel. He thought for a moment.

He could not examine Gornuk's friend by correspondence, that was for sure. August thought for a moment. Arkham was a veritable fortress town in the middle of nowhere, so whoever Gurnok's friend was, he would be in no danger here. He doubted anyone would ever think of Arkham either. People tended to put the place out of their minds if they could. Pulling out his fountain pen, August began writing an invitation plus one to Gurnok to Miskatonic University for Christmas.


	18. Amelia Bones

**AN: Updated and betad**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"Mr Dursley, you understand that though this house is in a muggle neighbourhood, it's connection to Diagon Alley places it under wizard control?" Ted Tonks looked at Vernon, freshly out of hospital and still wheelchair bound.

The fat man nodded slightly. "I won't have to see the freak, will I?" The tone was almost pleading.

"Harry will be living in the basement house through that door. You'll only see him if he decides to come out that way." Ted felt his lip curling. The man was an appalling excuse for a human being.

The fat man with the bushy moustache shuddered. "Good. I couldn't take having to look at him every day. Gurnok's a right little bastard for even making me stay connected with the boy. Couldn't I live somewhere else? "

Ted growled under his breath, getting steadily angrier. "It is legally required that he resides with you under our laws. Gurnok was doing what he had to protect the only family you had left."

"I have a sister," countered Dursley, glaring, but Ted thought he could see a hint of guilt in the man's eyes.

Maybe he could capitalise on that. "Oh I'm sorry. I meant the only worthwhile family you have left." He felt a small surge of satisfaction as the barb struck home. At least the fat lump had some form of guilt left.

Ted stomped out the front door, leaving Dursley to whatever muggle caretakers would come for him later. That man was possibly one of the most unpleasant people he had ever met. He knew the man had lost his family, but he was rejecting Harry, the only connection he had left to them. Ted had met Marge at the hospital and seen how she looked at the cripple. It was disgust. Disgust that her brother was a gimp. He would find no family there.

"Dad?" Ted's head shot up to find Nymphadora standing before him, barely in muggle appropriate clothing. It was lucky no one knew that quod pot was a wizarding sport. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled tiredly. "Just setting up a few things for Gringotts. You?"

"Moody has me doing patrol on this street for some reason," replied Tonks, looking bored out of her mind. "Said it was a training exercise. Dull as dishwater here. Its all muggles and not even the criminal kind."

Ted laughed at his daughter's expression. This must be why she was wearing mousy hair. "I always got the impression that this was what Trainee Aurors did these days. Its got to be better than working at that bookstore."

Dora looked at him sharply. "Hey, I like it there. Remus is really nice."

Something about her tone of voice caught his attention. "I'm sure he is. I'll see you at home then?" Prying wouldn't get anything out of her, he knew.

"Okay. I have to get back to patrolling anyway. Later Dad." She walked off, shoulders hunched, kicking at a coke can. Ted stared after her, concerned. Lupin was a good man, so Ted doubted anything was happening, but he knew Andromeda wouldn't approve of Dora being interested in a werewolf. Letting her know wouldn't be a good idea either.

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Quirrell was fuming. He'd made a mistake, he was sure of it now. Of his wall of portraits, most had their occupants as their other portraits had been destroyed. Currently he only had the one he'd placed outside the bathroom door above the chamber left in Hogwarts. Also, the castle's residents now had specific instructions to report his movements. Not that he couldn't get past most of these, but actually having to bug anywhere would leave him wide open to being discovered.

Add to that, he had no idea of what the Dark Lord's plan was. Apparently, it involved acquiring a book of Lucius Malfoy's. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord no longer trusted Lucius. That meant Quirrell had to steal it from Malfoy Manor, one of the most heavily warded and guarded properties in Britain. The Malfoy house elves tended to either be mad fanatics or broken creatures, which meant that either they would slice you to pieces with cutlery before you could get a spell off or bawl like a babe and alert the ones that would. That was assuming they still had an entire staff of course. Quirrell had never heard reports on the numbers from any of his portraits in the ministry. Most people seemed to discount the little symbiotes as irrelevant, but Gringotts' free elves had nearly killed him when he'd made his escape. He was lucky they had not seen his form.

Quirrell began to draw up a battle plan. He'd need more information on the different varieties of wards the Malfoys might have before he put his plan into action. He doubted he could readily find out their household staff numbers, but he realised that if he hit their quarters first, it would not prove a problem later.

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Moody stomped up to Amelia Bone's office door. This was a conversation he really would rather not have, but leaving her out of the loop was a mistake, one that even Dumbledore acknowledged had been disastrous.

"Enter," came a strong, clipped voice. The door swung open and Moody stepped through cautiously. "Ah, Alastor, good to see you. Sit down." Amelia sat behind her large desk, monocle in place, looking over a set of reports.

Moody didn't bother sitting, instead plopping a pile of files onto her desk before standing to attention. "Ma'am, I believe you need to read these, but please understand that the people involved would like to keep this quiet."

Bone's eyebrow arched, but she reached for the files. "Anything else I should know before reading these?"

"It might be better if you viewed those in the safety of your own home Ma'am. I recently found my office had been bugged."

"Bugged?" Amelia had clearly never heard of this before.

"A muggle term. There was a small portrait spying on my conversations." Madame Bones nodded in understanding. The term might be alien, but the concept clearly wasn't. "Permission to leave, Ma'am?"

Amelia nodded thoughtfully and Moody sagged with relief. This could go terribly depending on how she responded, so they just had to trust that she would understand the gravity of the situation when she met with them again. Luckily for them, if anybody in this corrupt department had good judgement had rock solid integrity it was Amelia Bones.


	19. Muggle Means

**AN: Updated and betad**

**Disclaimer: Yeah...**

Gurnok was standing in front of four men dressed in casual, but extremely durable muggle clothing. One was an American with a neat beard, wearing a T-shirt for something called Star Wars under his jacket. The other three were Englishmen with shaven heads. But their appearance was unimportant. What was important to Gornuk was that they were all muggleborn officially listed as dead.

"I hope you understand the delicateness of my request," Gurnok started. "Goblins cannot be seen to act in the affairs of wizards. My fellows would probably execute me if they knew what I had planned as it would badly hurt our nation's reputation if I was found out."

The men nodded. They knew the score and had been paid enough to keep quiet about this meeting alone. Gurnok sighed, running his hands through his hair. This could be a touchy topic for them.

"I know you were all targeted by Death Eaters during the last war and so opted to live amongst the muggles. I also know that you all lost people to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I'm hiring you in the interest of protecting Harry Potter by muggle means, without the knowledge of my allies, fellows or the ministry."

The men shifted uncomfortably. "Mr Gurnok, we are assassins, not bodyguards," stated the tallest. "We have no experience in the area you are interested in."

"Think of your job more as pre-emptive guard duty. I'm hiring you to eliminate threats to Mr Potter's welfare before they come to fruition." Gurnok grinned evilly and the men smiled.

"We can do that, I think. Dealing death to deatheaters? When do we head out?" There was a nasty hint of eagerness in the man's voice at the prospect of killing which made Gornuk a little concerned, but he placed it out of his mind.

"Not yet," he replied. "But soon. We've been led to believe that there may be future attempts on Harry's life. Once we know who is involved..." Gurnok let the sentence trail off suggestively.

"Where will we be living?" asked the American. "You implied there might be a little passive security work involved."

"With Vernon Dursley, a magic-hating wheelchair bound tub of lard who we unfortunately need alive for Harry's legal safety." Gurnok grimaced. "I'm sorry that you'll have to deal with the man."

The American shrugged. "I doubt he'll be any worse than my drill sergeant. When do we move in?"

Gurnok grinned. "Why not today? You'll find the address in your files. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting." With a soft pop and a surge of dust he disappeared, leaving his hired guns to make their way to the Dursley residence in their own time.

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Gornuk arrived at Madame Bones' office to find the door closed and the hushed sound of voices on the other side. The door swung open as he approached and he walked inside to find Dumbledore, Moody and Madame Bones all looking very tense.

"Ah, Mr Gurnok, do come in," said Madame Bones cordially. "Its nice to meet an adult who places a priority on children's welfare over their mad schemes."

Well, the meeting obviously wasn't going well for Dumbledore and Moody. Gurnok gave an appreciative bow. "Thank you Madame. I trust you know all the details?"

"All I have been provided," she replied testily. "Its lucky for these two that they did nothing technically illegal. All this could bring down on their heads is a disciplinary hearing for Dumbledore in front the board of governors and since no student was actually hurt, I doubt it would amount to much."

"What of Quirrell?" asked Gornuk anxiously.

"There will be a full investigation, completely under the radar of course. If Quirrell is one of Voldermort's supporters and was attempting to resurrect the bastard, as mad as that sounds, we don't want anyone getting wind of it." Madame Bones paused for a moment, looking at Gurnok in amusement. "Now, I understand you've employed the Miller brothers and 'Star Wars' George."

Gurnok tensed. "I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean," he replied stiffly.

"I'm quite sure you don't," said Bones, smiling. "If a few former Death Eaters find themselves dead I doubt my apartment will find anything relating to you. Either way, it would be no great loss. Merely a set of tragically unexplainable events." She chuckled at the look on his face. "You can all go now. I seem to have a lot to organise."

Gornuk walked out in step with Dumbledore. "Well that was unexpected."

"Quite. I wouldn't have thought she would approve of such underhanded methods," said a thoughtful Dumbledore. "Though she did lose family in the war and the suspects never saw the inside of a cell. Mr Gornuk, I do hope you know what you're doing. I would attempt to stop you, but doubt I could since you seem so determined."

"Yes I doubt you could too, but remember, just because I have different priorities to you doesn't stop us from working together. Goodbye Dumbledore. " Gornuk walked off, leaving a very concerned headmaster in his wake.

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Quirrell ran madly through the Malfoy Manor, a small diary tucked under his arm. Getting past the wards had not been an issue, but there had been major complications.

"Bring back Master's book, bad wizard," hissed the nearest house elf, sprinting at him, a cleaver raised. Quirrell's plan to hit the elves first had gone poorly when it was revealed that their apartments were protected under powerful magic Quirrell had neither understood nor heard of before. Not sealing the entire area in ice had been a mistake.

He found himself standing at the end of a corridor with no door in front of him. A dead end. Quirrell turned at bay, staring wildly at the crowd of eight elves, all holding some kind of weapon. He hit the cleaver wielding elf full in the face with a stunner and it skidded along the floor.

"Back down if you know what's good for you," he said unsteadily. He hadn't been running for long, but the little bastards were fast and agile. He'd been chased to the top floor of the mansion, all the way from ground floor, and had been running into elves who had apparated themselves ahead of the pack to cut him off.

An elf, holding a cursed scimitar he'd seen hanging on a wall earlier, stepped forward. "You will return Master's book, or we will kill you, gut you and feed you to Master." The look in the elves squinty eyes was manic.

Quirrell blinked. Voldermort was right for once. These elves were absolutely insane. He'd thought the old wraith had been exaggerating, but there was no way he was getting out of this house alive if the elves were here. They were horrifyingly much more powerful in their own magic than anyone had ever given them credit for. So Quirrell decided to use one of his favourite dark spells. A wave of Fiendfyre roared down the corridor, quickly forming into a small crowd of lizards, snakes and spiders which slammed into the crowd of elves as if they were solid creatures themselves.

Quirrell watched as the elves screamed in pain as they burnt, except for a little one at the back of the group, who apparated away with a pop. Grinning, Quirrell decided it was time for him to leave as well. His handle on Fiendfyre was always limited, though better than most people's, and he had just felt the anti-apparation wards go as the stone they were woven into began to melt from the heat. In a swish of robes, Quirrell apparated away to a hill overlooking the manor.

"You are burning down Malfoy manor." It was a statement, not a question, delivered with a hint of ice in his lord's voice. Quirrell winced. Malfoy might be disloyal, but he was Voldemort's main source of money during the last war. He had been foolish.

"We had to escape and you doubted his loyalty. The man never attempted to find you after your disappearance, Master. Do you really want the man feeling he's safe after such behaviour?" He said quickly, hoping to redirect his master's anger. Quirrell grinned slightly. Watching that arrogant bastard Malfoy's seat of power burn felt good. He'd run into the man a few times over the years and he'd always looked down on Quirrell like he was barely human. He wasn't so certain what his master would think however.

"Ha!" He jumped at Voldemort's sudden outburst, uncertain. "Very true. Though do I detect a hint of resentment Quirrell?"

Quirrell shrugged involuntarily. "Maybe Master, but if you can't trust the man to search for you or guard your valuables I fail to see its relevance."

"Malfoy may yet have come round. He is a slippery little rat and will always choose what is best for him." His master's voice was quickly regaining its icy edge and Quirrell tensed.

"We burnt down his house down, one of the most heavily warded buildings in England. Standing against us would seem like suicide." He waited with baited breath, hoping his argument was persuasive.

"Very well," said he voice in amused resignation. "I never cared for the damn frog anyway. Let us leave this place."

Quirrell did not question his master, instead smiling in relief. Taking one last look at the bonfire that was Malfoy manor he found himself laughing. At least him and the damn parasite agreed on some points. "With pleasure, my lord."


	20. A Bone to pick

**AN: Updated and betad.**

**Disclaimer: Heh.**

The auror field HQ tent was currently mostly empty, except for a small office containing two very angry wizards. "Mr Malfoy, you are not making this easy for us," said Mad Eye testily. "We are not investigating you, merely who could have burnt down your mansion."

Lucius obviously wasn't going to be helpful, seeing as he'd nearly been killed by Moody in the past. In perfect honesty, Moody wouldn't have been his own first choice, but Scrimgeour wanted to send a certain message to Lucius. Personally Moody thought it was a bit barmy, though he did like watching Malfoy squirm. "Why don't you just tell us what we need to know?"

"I fail to see how that is my problem," said Lucius, looking down his nose at Moody like he was something on the bottom of his shoe. "As far as I can tell this appears to be an act of terror against an upstanding pureblood family. Why don't you focus on that, instead of asking me inane questions about my house elf?"

"Your house elf may have witnessed the attacker," pointed out Moody, his patience nearly at its end.

"Dobby is practically useless," replied Malfoy disdainfully. "He was always the most unhinged and disloyal of the elves, but now all he will say is something about a purple towel. If that's not enough we lost the rest of the little rats. I'm thinking about selling him and buying another."

"Towel?" Moody's brow furrowed. Did he mean 'towel-head'? That might mean he'd seen Quirrell. The little blighter actually sounded a tad racist, but it might just be something he'd picked up from living with a bunch of Malfoys.

"Is that all, _Auror _Moody?" asked Lucius, snapping him out of his thoughts. Alastor absent mindedly nodded before making a note to have Gurnok to buy the elf in Harry's name. They'd get whatever information out of him that they could. Plus, since he was disloyal to the Malfoys, he'd probably be loyal to whoever rescued him from that fate. Harry Potter had people looking out for him, but one more could always be useful.

Moody was glad he'd at least brought Tonks along for some in-field experience, as well as Shacklebolt. They'd been able to work out the path of the fight through the mansion, where the elves had perished and from the remains of the wards, what had been been tampered with. Not that they had yet find a single dark artefact after fiendfyre had torn through the house, but it was better than nothing.

Moody decided he'd keep the girl on the case. She could use the experience and she certainly deserved it, coming in so late at night and working through to twelve the next day. Shacklebolt reckoned she was one of the better trainees, though they both agreed she was needed to watch her feet more often.

Moody doubted there was anything more he could do for the case today. However, he wouldn't be surprised if more turned up from that elf. He decided that it was best not to wait and apparated to the front steps of Gringotts. Gurnok might be strange but at least he was useful.

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Several weeks later, Moody found himself staring at the little creature sleeping in its cot. How the hell did he get roped into looking after a mentally unstable elf? He couldn't be trusted on his own yet and needed constant watching, either by Moody or one of Gringott's free elves who were becoming very distressed by Dobby's condition. They'd been volunteering their free time when Gurnok had mentioned it to them and Moody had been greatful, but why Gurnok couldn't have looked after the elf he had no idea. Merlin, the elf was acting as Harry's accounts manager. Didn't that make him Gurnok's responsibility?

"Alastor?" Amelia Bones inquired at his office door. She sounded stressed, probably from all the pressure the minister was placing on her for progress in the case.

"Enter," replied a very tired Auror. He didn't really want to have to talk to her, but she was his boss, even if it was skipping Scrimgeour. Moody had the feeling Bones didn't much like the head auror but never commented on it.

"Any luck with our little friend?" asked Amelia, looking down pityingly at Dobby.

"He managed to confirm it was Quirrell. He also made it pretty clear that the Malfoys were 'bad wizards', not that we didn't know that already. I think he'd been tortured a little before we got him out of there."

Amelia's mouth set into a straight line. She'd always been convinced that Lucius had been involved in her brother and sister-in-law's murder. That he'd been found innocent of all crimes was still a sore point for her after all these years. Moody had once heard that Amelia had a large part in encouraging her brother to ask his wife to marry him. He just hoped she'd remain professional.

"Did we find anything that we could charge Malfoy for owning in the ruins?" asked Moody, certain the answer was no. "I haven't had a chance to see the reports after Shacklebolt offered to take over the case.

"Fiendfyre wiped out everything bar that elf unfortunately. I think I'd better have a word with Mr Gurnok." Amelia smiled viciously and Moody paled. While he did like the idea of Malfoy dead, he wasn't certain it would be the best option.

"Malfoy could prove an asset-"

"The moment he sees us as weaker than Voldermort, he'll turn on us like the dog he is. Better remove him from the picture before he becomes a complication. Trust me Moody, he stays in contact with too many Death Eaters to not become a complication. Lucius has escaped justice for far too long." The Madame Bones persona was back on as Amelia went to leave the room, putting her monocle back in place. "I'm having that word with Willan. Don't fight me on this."

"Willan?" called Moody after her. "Since when have you been calling him Willan?" There was no answer. Moody swore. Amelia had always been a very fair woman, but her love of justice over the years had caused a strange sort of scepticism in the law to develop.

Moody didn't believe in second chances either, but he could see when you could use someone to get someone bigger and Quirrell was more of a danger than Lucius at the moment. Lucius might be untrustworthy, but Quirrell was a damn loose cannon. He floo-called Dumbledore, hoping the old man could make her see sense. If not, Lucius Malfoy was going to pay for his crimes the hard way.

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	21. Eagles, Octopi and Pea Soup

**AN: In case of confusion, Willan is Gornuk's first name.**

**Disclaimer: I haves it precious.**

Harry was finding things difficult at the moment. It wasn't his school work of course. Gornuk had it made very clear to him that he couldn't let that slip. Harry wouldn't have let it slip anyway. He had found himself putting more effort into actually, as a sort of coping mechanism. Everything else however was terrible. Firstly, Vernon had tried to block Harry from attending the funeral. Then he'd spent the entire funeral being glared at by Vernon, Marge and Dudley's old gang. Harry could tell though that Vernon's heart really wasn't in it. More than anything, the man looked broken.

To top that off, a few days after the Dursleys had died, Malfoy's home had gone up in smoke. Normally he wouldn't have cared, but Malfoy had decided it was enough of a reason to make everyone's life a living hell. Harry, Ron, Neville and even occasionally Hermione had been having trouble with him all the time and had been given detentions by Snape for most of it.

At least Harry could understand Malfoy's rage. Someone had destroyed his home, somewhere he'd lived all his life. Harry also knew the Malfoys were now falling on hard times. Business proposals were suddenly few and far between, some of their loans were called in early due to a lack of faith and the Malfoys still had to rebuild the manor. Harry hadn't understood the importance of this until Ron explained that a manor such as the Malfoys used to had was a sort of political shorthand for stability.

With these thoughts raging through his head he sat down at the Breakfast table in a foul mood. "Harry, you have a letter," said Hermione, pointing to Hedwig who had just flown into the hall. Harry thanked her and extended his arm, which Hedwig landed on, and started untying the note from Gurnok and a very formal looking missive. He smiled a little. Gornuk's letters were always a source of comfort and he'd been looking forwards to the next one.

"What is it?" asked Neville curiously, pointing at the formal envelope that had come with it.

Harry turned envelope over, looking at it for the first time. The parchment and seal was unfamiliar. He shrugged. "Don't know yet. Hermione, you practically memorised that book of heraldry, right?" Hermione nodded and Harry grinned a little as she blushed. "Who has a seal of an eagle swooping down on a winged octopus? Pretty weird seal, if you ask me."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she stared at the letter. "That's from Miskatonic University, the premier defence school in the world. They don't take students from outside of the Northern United States."

"Why not?" asked Ron.

"Arkham, the wizard state in the north of America is very isolationist," she replied. "They still have trouble with some of the darker things of the world. Anywhere outside their jurisdiction is fairly safe, but they happen to inhabit the single place in the world where you're still likely to find that sort of stuff. Though all reports suggest they've been working pretty hard to change that. It's led to them becoming a little... odd."

"Its a Christmas invitation to the University's party. Apparently they want to introduce the students my age to an outsider and I'm both muggle-raised and foreign enough for them." Harry flicked open the note from Gurnok.

"So, will you go?" asked Neville curiously.

Harry looked up from Gurnok's much more truthful explanation. "I think I shall. Hermione, do you know about any books on the Independent State of Arkham?"

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"Dumbledore and Moody think we should use Malfoy against Quirrell." Amelia was clearly unhappy with the idea, Gornuk could tell from how she wasn't paying attention to her meal. They had booked a private room in the Leaky Cauldron as was usual for their conversations and were enjoying battling the pea soup. Both agreed it was highly undignified, but that there was nothing tastier on the menu.

"That sounds about as safe as using the Philosopher's Stone as bait." Gurnok did not think much of Dumbledore's scheming. There were too many variables. His soup sucked ominously at his spoon and he looked down, preparing for another tug of war with his meal.

"I'm glad you think so Willan," said Amelia, smiling. "Its nice having someone who can see the risks. Having two people arguing at you can really leave you feeling beaten down." She sat quietly for a moment before continuing on her train of thought. "I think he needs to be dealt with before Dumbledore decides to incorporate him into some sort of hare brained scheme involving string and hope."

Gurnok lost the battle with his soup and swore. He glanced up at Amelia sheepishly, noting her annoyance at his apparent inattention. "Don't worry Amelia, I agree. I'll have a word with my associates. I think we should do it over Christmas. Harry and I are travelling to Arkham to talk with a specialist. It'll be a good alibi, even if we don't technically need one."

"What sort of specialist?" Amelia looked concerned. "And why does Harry need to travel to Arkham?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Harry has an issue and I didn't want it getting out to the media here. I figured Arkham is quiet enough that the outside world-" Gurnok was grabbed by the lapels as his soup used his distraction to launch an had to leap across the table to save him. They both ended up on the floor laughing, the soup dying as the bowl hit the floor and cracked.

"Well, Mr Gurnok," said Amelia, her shoulders shaking. "I suggest we clean ourselves up and head back to work. People will look down on us if we are late and covered in soup."

Gornuk looked down at his clothing. "Damn. I'll be in the wash room. I'll see you later Amelia."

"Of course you will Willan. I'm sorry but I'm no good at cleaning charms." Amelia stood up. "Though you have to admit, it was very good soup." Gornuk's glare followed her out the door as she chuckled quietly.


	22. Miskatonic University

**AN: Updated and betad.**

**Disclaimer: Whoop.**

Harry stared up at the the town of Arkham, Massachusetts, looking a little nervous. The only wizarding settlement of any size in the north of The United States of America and Canada since the scandal at Salem was a sight to behold. High walls encircled the buildings, carved with all manner of runes and buzzing with wards. Harry could actually see gun emplacements with what appeared to be modern muggle artillery. What kind of place was this?

"Relax Harry," laughed Gornuk as he stepped off the wizarding steam boat that had carried them up the Miskatonic River and onto the wharf. "They don't fire at humans, at least not usually."

This didn't do much to comfort Harry, but he nodded. "What do they fire at?"

"Things man was not meant to know," said Gornuk in a silly voice, grinning. "Northern America is the last place on the Earth where they haven't been driven out yet. The Romans, Chinese, Indians and Ottomans did it with swords; here in America they use guns. Just because a monster can break your sanity and ruin your magic doesn't mean it can survive a shell to the face."

Harry smiled weakly at that. These things, as Gurnok insisted on calling them, were not common knowledge any more, not like they'd been ten centuries ago. Part of the reason for this according to Gornuk was that a lot of dark magic had been developed by studying them. So once most of the wizarding world had wiped them out, they'd deliberately suppressed all knowledge of them. Apparently Miskatonic University, Arkham's magic school, was the last place on earth many of the texts and notes on these 'things' were kept.

Stepping through the gates, Harry looked around at the residents going about their daily business. They dressed in oddly dour clothing compared to witches and wizards in England. Their cloaks and robes were heavier and seemed to be tailored in a more modern fashion. Harry supposed this was due to most Arkhamites being descended from European muggleborn who left in the 1700s seeking a better life. Harry was also having trouble understanding what any of them were saying.

"Arkham has its own dialect Harry," Gurnok explained before the boy could ask. "The product of so many different people coming together. It's mostly English with a smattering of German, French and a few indigenous languages thrown in." They navigated the streets of Arkham, passing houses, shops, what looked like a smaller version of Gringotts, the ministerial building and the auror barracks. Eventually, they found themselves at the front gates of Miskatonic University, a sprawling collection of buildings. A darker skinned man stepped forwards smiling.

"Gornuk," he said in the same odd accent, a broad grin lighting up his face. "Its good to see you. And this must be the young Mr Potter."

Harry extended his hand nervously. "Pleased to meet you sir."

"August Derleth," said the man, shaking Harry's hand firmly. "Well, shall we head inside? I'm glad you came Mr Potter. Tell me, have you ever seen a game of Quadpot?"

Gornuk watched smiling as August barraged Harry with information about Quodpot, Arkham and anything else that seemed to pop into the man's head. August was very disarming and he'd seen him use this trick before. Soon Harry's nervousness was gone and they headed into the warmth of a large hall, with the roof charmed like the great hall at Hogwarts. However this hall only ever showed the night sky and was also covered in an intricate set of Arithmantic equations, which shifted as he watched them.

"Our early warning system," said August proudly. "We've managed to mix arithmancy and a bit of divination to create a sort of forecast system for the old ones. It's accurate about forty percent of the time or so. Of course, it does help how large an effect they tend to have." Gornuk whistled, impressed. "And this is Philip Lovecraft, the headmaster for our junior year levels," he said, gesturing at a man marching towards them.

Philip was a sombre looking man with a long face and a very conservative haircut. "Welcome to Miskatonic University, Mr Potter. Its an honour to have you with us. Let's get you settled in. The trip over must have been exhausting."

"Thank you sir." Gornuk smiled proudly at Harry, watching him follow Philip over to a prefect, carrying his small case.

"You gave us quite a shock when you told us who we'd be receiving," said August from beside him. "I'm sure there's quite a story behind all this." He left the statement hanging.

"I'd be perfectly willing to share it over a drink, assuming it doesn't leave the room of course."

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Lucius Malfoy stood amongst the ruins of his manor, nervous about the meeting he was about to take part in. The man who had burnt down his home with a flick of his wand had sent him a note, charmed with various spells to make it untraceable to meet him here. The note had been signed 'Lord Voldermort's Attendant'. The possibility that Voldermort had truly returned, no matter his form or allies was a terrifying one.

Lucius had abandoned his role as a death eater as soon as the Dark Lord had fallen. His political rivals dead and his coffers bulging with his own and ill gotten gold, he had set about forging a new name as the greatest man behind the system. Now Voldermort seemed to be back, Lucius had no idea what would happen. Would he be able to persuade his lord that he had been waiting for his return, preparing in the shadows? Somehow convince Voldermort that he was worth more alive than dead?

Lucius' thoughts were cut off as a man, dressed in dark green robes and hood and wearing a silver snake mask appeared. This was not traditional Death Eater wear. It was however, obviously expensive. Hidden under the robes was the silvery glint of goblin-made plate-mail. Lucius steeled himself and took a step forward.

"Greetings-" The figure moved quickly, pulling a weapon out of his robes. Lucius had a moment of recognition before the man raised the pistol and put three shots squarely between his eyes. As Lucius fell back, the man scooped up Lucius' cane, retrieved the wizard's wand and raised it to the sky.

"Morsmordre!" A cloud of shimmering stars rose into the sky, quickly forming into a skull with a snake crawling out of its mouth and in a flash, the man was gone, leaving the wand next to its owner, lying in a pool of spreading blood.

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Gornuk sat down hard into the armchair. "You're telling me a piece of Voldermort's soul is wedged in Harry's head?"

He thought of the boy, who he'd left in the courtyard with a group of students having a snowball fight. Harry was busy enjoying his first real Christmas with children his age, learning quadpot and quidditch, receiving gifts from his friends back in England (along with a family heirloom, an invisibilty cloak, that Dumbledore should not have had). Harry knew there was something serious, but Gornuk had wanted to give him a chance to enjoy his first real Christmas. How was he supposed to tell Harry this?

"They're called Horcruxes. This one seems accidental, but they usually are created to bind one's soul to the mortal realm." August winced at the expression on Gornuk's face. "There are probably more of them too, otherwise Voldermort's soul would not have been fractured enough to leave a piece in Harry. I'm sorry I had to break this to you. We were hoping it might just be some residual dark magic, but unfortunately that wasn't the case."

"Do you think Dumbledore knows?" asked Gurnok shakily.

August shrugged. "I would be surprised if he doesn't at least suspect it. He probably couldn't tell for sure however. We have more experience dealing with these things you must remember."

"How do we get rid of it?"

August looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. "Basilisk venom, fiedfyre or simply killing Harry. My colleagues theorise that if Harry got hit by the killing curse again, his mother's magic might protect him and not the horcrux, but no-one would dare trying it out. Their recommendation is to go after the other horcruxes first. If you can weaken Voldermort, the horcrux will do Harry less harm. I'd also recommend getting Harry some occlumency lessons to shield Harry's mind from the thing."August stood up and went to the drinks cabinet, pulling out a bottle of expensive fire whiskey and two large glasses. "I think you'll be needing this."

Gurnok nodded in agreement, a weak smile gracing his face. "That and a priest. I'm suddenly feeling very religious." He was treated to a weak burst of laughter from August.

"I think I've got a case of that too."


	23. Forgotten Family

**AN: Updated and betad.**

**Disclaimer:Whoop whoop.**

Harry and Gornuk stepped out of the Gringotts' international apparation room carrying their suitcases and wearing matching dark expressions. Harry looked over at the small man, his face set into a mask of worry and felt a pang of guilt. When Gurnok had told Harry about the horcrux, he'd gone very quiet and found it difficult to talk to him. He knew he should have talked to Gurnok, but he'd had trouble opening up about his feelings. The goblin was clearly struggling with himself, trying to decide whether to say anything or not.

"Harry," he said reluctantly. "I know this is probably a little soon to ask you, considering everything, but are you alright? You can talk me, you know."

"Not really," said Harry, looking at Gornuk and giving him a half-hearted smile, "and I'm not really feeling ready to talk about it yet sir."

"Oh." Gornuk looked disappointed, but nodded and Harry felt a pang of guilt run through him.

"Thank you sir. For everything. I don't know how I would have coped with this world without you."

A smile spread across his friend's face, dispelling the gloom. "I'm glad you let me Harry." The goblin guided them through the maze of corridors, eventually coming to the ground floor and entrance chamber. "Come on, Harry. I think it's time you met someone." Gornuk led Harry out of Gringotts and started guiding him through the crowded street.

"Who?" he asked, his brow furrowing. He couldn't think of who Gornuk meant for the life of him.

"Remus Lupin, the werewolf who was friends with your father." Gornuk frowned. "I think I gave you a file on him. He's a good man."

Harry burst into a wide smile himself. "The one who kept trying to check on me? You found him? What's he like?"

"He's quiet, but his assistant is helping break back him out of his shell. He's never really opened up to me, but I know he really wants to meet you. Lupin has been looking after the Griphook property for you."

"You gave him a job?" Harry was thrilled with Gurnok.

"Of course Harry," replied the goblin in bemusement. "He tried to save you from a bad situation. What kind of man would I be if I didn't? Here we are Harry."

Harry looked up at a large property on the corner of Knockturn Alley and did remembered passing it before, but it had obviously had some work done. Unlike the neighbouring properties, it only had three stories, all of which seemed to be constructed by hand instead of magic. The bottom floor housed a large, exclusive looking book store. "Why is there no sign?" he asked, confused.

"It ensures a more exclusive clientele. We don't want everyone to know what we sell." He caught the horrified look on Harry's face. "Relax," said Gurnok, laughing. "We wouldn't want you to have any part in selling anything illegal." Looking through the window, the goblin paused for a moment. "Would you like to meet him on your own, or should I make the introductions? I know this must be important to you. I would understand if you didn't want me there."

"No. I'd like you there Sir," replied Harry, smiling at the man in his suit and bowler hat.

"Okay then. Shall we go inside?" Gurnok pushed the door open and Harry glanced around. Books filled cases along the walls and somehow they'd attatched another set to the ceiling. Yet more book cases stood in the centre of the room, yet to be shelved books sitting in tottering piles, rustling their pages restlessly. It reminded Harry of a smaller version of the school library at Hogwarts, though the lighting was warmer and more welcoming.

"Wotcher Gurnok." Harry looked around to find a young smiling witch with white hair and a purple leather jacket sitting behind a counter with a large cash register and a number of heavy looking record books. She jumped down from her seat and slid out to stand in front of them. "What are you needing today?"

"Hello Tonks," said Gurnok, smiling a little. "Is Remus in? We'd like to see him."

"He's out back, dealing with some new stock you sent us." The girl's eyes alighted on Harry. So this was Ted's daughter. Harry couldn't remember much about her from Ted's stories, but he had made her sound a lot like Andromeda, a perky clumsy girl who loved a laugh. "Nice shirt. I have one just like it. My trainer got it for me when I nailed a class he expected everyone to fail. How did you get yours?"

Harry looked down at his Miskatonic Quadpot Team T-shirt. "Oh, I was given it for Christmas," he said, flushing. She was very pretty.

"Lucky you," said the girl, nodding appreciatively before turning towards the door behind her. "Remus! Gornuk and some cute little spot are here to see you!"

A muffled reply came from somewhere in the stock room, followed by the sound of footsteps and good looking but prematurely aged man stepped through the door. He was fairly tall, with greying hair and seemed to be regaining weight after a long time of not eating well or being ill. The man's clothes were still fairly new, but nowhere near as expensive as he might have seen on some wizards running a store like this.

"Sorry Tonks, I couldn't quite hear you. What do you need help with?" Lupin looked around the room for a moment, before noticing the other two. "Oh, hello Mr Gornuk. I didn't see you there."

"Hello Remus," said Gurnok easily. "I have someone with me who'd like to meet you."

Lupin turned to look at Harry for the first time, his eyes widening. "Harry?" he said, tears welling up in his eyes. "I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"Of course I wanted to see you," said Harry stepping forward. "I wanted to see you ever since I saw that you tried to keep an eye on me. That makes you more family than my own ever was."

Harry was surprised when the man swept him into a hug and started to cry.

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Quirrell stared down at the paper, his master's emotions washing over him in waves. He felt sick as another wave of anger broke against him, clouding his mind like a red mist.

"How dare my enemies use my own mark against me!" Voldemort's voice was like a hurricane, tearing at Quirrell's consciousness. "When I found out who killed my servant I'm going to wipe every trace of their existence off the face of the earth!"

Quirrell clawed his way back off the stone floor of the chamber, groaning. He could understand his master's bastards had severely hurt their cause. Lucius was dead and Narcissa Malfoy had disappeared, taking her son with her. This meant the Malfoy vaults were inaccessible. What was worse, every Death Eater with enough brains to bribe their way out of Azkaban would be on high alert and paranoid as hell. Quirrell would be lucky if they didn't kill him on sight. Hell, even approaching them as a prospective business partner would be next to impossible.

"Quirrell," snapped Voldemort, his voice harsh. "Does the article say what spell killed Lucius before he could react? The man was an excellent duellist. He should not have died before firing off a single spell."

"No, my lord. It only says that the wounds caused showed no trace of large scale spell residue, aside from than some sort of vanishing charm." Quirrell honestly had no idea what that could mean. Vanishing charms couldn't cause the kind of wounds mentioned in the article. Quirrell had to wonder where Rita had got all this information from. It shouldn't have been publicly available. Then again, Rita had always been full of surprises.

"Damn them! We'll have to change our plans, find another source of funding." Voldemort's voice dropped off and Quirrell could feel the man thinking. It was an unpleasant sensation, like a mass of worms crawling around in the back of his skull, writhing through his brain. He felt a little sick, but didn't comment, waiting for his master to finish. "I believe it is time to give the diary to a victim. A very wealthy victim."

Quirrell felt a smile flicker across his lips as he realised who his master had chosen. Oh yes, this would be perfect. The man was smart enough to have become very wealthy and arrogant enough to believe he would be in control. All Voldemort and he had to do was find a way to get the diary horcrux to the man without it being traced. Then hopefully he his master would leave him in peace.


	24. The bodies pile up

**AN: Updated and betad.**

**Disclaimer: You know it, I know it, everybody knows it.**

Harry spent the remainder of his holidays at the Griphook house, either chatting with Remus and Tonks or exploring the real house in the basement. He'd come across a door Gurnok had walked right past, but neither he nor the goblin could work out how to open it. They'd spent hours trying to pick it apart, something made more difficult by the fact that only Harry could sense it. In the end they'd given up and gone to an ice-cream parlour, as Gurnok insisted winter was the best time for ice-cream since it didn't melt. Harry wasn't certain he agreed.

Harry also found himself under the tutelage of Remus and Tonks for Defence Against The Dark Arts. The headmaster apparently was still having trouble finding a replacement teacher and currently the class was being taught by whoever had a free period. Harry had asked why Remus couldn't have taken the job, but the man laughed sadly and pointed out what the parents' reaction would be to a werewolf teaching at Hogwarts."Come on Harry, you know how the parents would take that. It'd be torches and pitchforks all the way from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts."

Harry frowned. "Wizarding society is pathetic. They think they're so much better than muggles that they can't see how far they've fallen behind." Remus only shrugged at that, obviously uncomfortable. Tonks looked concerned, but said nothing and went back to shelving. Harry had to agree with Gurnok. She was definitely sweet on Remus.

Harry was also certain that someone was cleaning his house behind his back, but never picked up on who or what was flitting through the house, keeping surfaces free of dust and fires blazing. He wondered whether it might be a house elf, but it never responded to his calls. In the end, Harry put it down to magic and thought nothing more of it, except when he finally saw a pair of large orb-like eyes staring at him out of the dark, before they disappeared. Whatever it was hardly wanted to hurt him and seemed to appreciate its privacy, so Harry left it alone, but occasionally he would hear muffled sobs in the night as he tried to sleep.

The holidays past uneventfully for Harry despite the chaos the government was reeling from. Everyone on the street was talking about the Malfoys. Do you think the wife did it or not? Did Malfoy betray another Death Eater? Was it payback by a victim's family that had been a long time coming? Then, as the holidays came to an end, something happened that stirred the gossip to new heights.

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_Former Death Eaters Murdered._

_Dark Mark flies again!_

_Tragedy has struck once again so close after Christmas. Yesterday the bodies of Messrs Grabbe and Goyle were found in the grounds of the Goyle Residence. Ministry officials have been tight lipped about the circumstances surrounding the incident, but sources inside the Auror department say that the case bears a shocking resemblance to the murder of Lucius Malfoy, a close friend of both men. No one at the ministry could deny the dark mark, You-Know-Who's personal brand, flying in the sky above the Goyle residence however._

_Theories abound on the nature of these attacks, but one thing for that we know for sure is this: our society is not as safe as we believed it to be. For more on the case, please turn to page 4. For more on why our Auror department is ill-equipped to deal with this spate of killing, please turn to page 7._

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"You understand you won't be able to spreak to him for long?" asked the healer walking Kingsley to Gregory Goyle's room, barely keeping up with his long stride. "The trauma of losing such important memories has made him very emotional. If you upset him too badly, I'll have to ask you to leave.

Shackelbolt nodded testily. He understood her concern, but didn't she understand how badly they needed anything the boy could tell them? "Very well then," she said haughtily. "Here we are. Don't push him too hard, Auror Shacklebolt."

He looked down at the boy, propped up on his pillows in his hospital bed. The boy was the only witness to a traumatic crime and hardly in any state to answer questions. He knew this but the only problem was that if he didn't ask, they'd have no new leads.

This investigation was quickly going the same way as the Malfoy case. Crabbe and Goyle had been found with massive wounds to the head and neck, no sign of significant spell damage and only a small patch of earth where one, possibly two people had apparated to and away from. The boy had been walking with his father and visitor and had ended up covered in blood. And apparently the only worse thing than having that memory seared into your brain for the rest of your life was to have it missing.

"Gregory," said Shacklebolt gently. "I'm Auror Shacklebolt, the investigating officer on your father and Mr Crabbe's murders. I'm sorry for your loss, but I have to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?"

The boy nodded bravely and Shacklebolt smiled. "Good. Now I understand there's a gap in your memory, but I need you to tell me what you can remember. I understand this might be hard for you, but I need you to try. Can you do that for me? Every little detail helps"

"I remember a lot... I'm just not certain whether it was real or not," Greg said, shifting on his pillows.

"Why don't you tell me what about it, Mr Goyle?" said Kingsley gently.

"There were these... men," Goyle said slowly, his face contorted with effort. "They were dressed in green robes, I'm certain of it. And they had these masks made from silver, like snake heads viewed from above."

Kingsley frowned. He'd never heard of Death Eaters wearing robes like that. Maybe they were a splinter group, some group of radicals who'd finally come out of the woodwork. "How many men were there Gregory? Can you be certain they were all men?"

"I think there were two," said the boy, frowning in concentration. "That's- that's all I remember. Everything after that goes dark, like when my dad hit me too hard that one time, but I remember standing there afterwards."

Shacklebolt winced at that last statement. "That's all right Mr Goyle. I think we have enough to going on with. I hope you get better soon."

It was a shame he couldn't forget his father completely. The man sounded like a brute. He'd have to tell the others at the office of the boys description, but what really worried him was that they'd left anything in his head at all. Was it a warning? A red herring designed to throw the investigation off track. He couldn't make head nor tail of it.

"Why don't I care that they died sir?" said Gregory, causing Shacklebolt to turn back around. "I should feel something, shouldn't I? I don't understand."

Kingsley smiled sadly at the boy as the healer came over to check on him, ready to shoo him out of the room. "I don't know Mr Goyle. Godspeed on your recovery."

"And to you as well sir," replied the boy, remembering his manners despite everything. I was all very sad thought Shacklebolt as he left. But at least the boy might brow up better without that sort of father hanging over him.


	25. Losing Control

**AN: Updated and betad.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I see nothing.**

Harry stared around the great hall on his first day back. Something was definitely wrong.

"Where is everybody?" asked Hermione, asking what Harry had been wondering . "I wasn't able to get the Daily Prophet over the holidays. Has something happened?"

Harry groaned. Of course that was the reason. He felt really stupid. "Sorry Hermione, I didn't realise you hadn't heard. Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle's dads were murdered."

Her face paled. "Oh god. Have they caught the killers yet?"

He shook his head. "No, but its worse than that. They were found under the dark mark." He thought back to the panic in Diagon Alley. "It must be why everyone's missing. They were Death Eaters too, which makes everything worse. They said they'd been forced to do it with magic. Now everyone's worrying about a Death Eater running around, killing traitors and enemies of the dark lord."

Neville made his way over to them and sat down. "You're talking about the murders, aren't you?" The both nodded. "Goyle was there when his dad and Mr Crabbe were killed. He's at St Mungos, recovering from a memory charm."

"How do you know that?" asked Hermione curiously, but Neville shrugged awkwardly and looked down at his empty plate.

Harry winced, realising Neville had probably seen them while he was visiting his parents. "You probably heard it on the train, right Neville?" His friend nodded gratefully.

Harry glanced around the room. None of the tables were full. Slytherin had the most students missing, including Draco Malfoy and Vincent Crabbe, but also others he recognised like the Greengrass girl, Zabini and many others. "I wonder if they'll come back after this is all over."

"Where's Ron?" asked Hermione, panicking. "I just realise I didn't see him on the train."

"Relax Hermione," said Harry laughed. "He spent the entire trip looking for Scabbers. Apparently it had been hiding for some reason." Harry didn't much care for Ron's pet. The little creature usually spent all its hours sleeping. Missing a toe and very fat, Harry was convinced Ron should take more care of him, especially considering his age, but could understand why he didn't.

"That's funny," said Neville grinning. "Usually it's Trevor who makes a break for it." Trevor made a sound of agreement from somewhere in Neville's robes and they all laughed. Trevor's loyalty had become stronger now that Neville was more confident and less likely to be pushed around by the school bullies. It meant Trevor wasn't getting squashed between his owner and the floor.

Ron arrived, looking rushed. "Sorry I'm late guys," he said, grabbing a drum stick from a plate on the table as they finally appeared. "Stupid rat. No new defence professor?" There was still a very noticeable gap at the table.

Harry shook his head. "No, but I can teach you guys a bit. I got tutored a little over the holidays and managed to score some notes. They're pretty ancient, but really thorough." Tonks and Remus had loaded Harry up with all their notes from Hogwarts, including stuff from a few years ahead and Harry had been dying to try out some of their hints. Ron looked appalled. "Come on Ron, Defence is fun."

"Defence always sucked with Quirrell," argued Ron, looking unhappy.

"But we won't be learning off Quirrell next year," pointed out Hermione. "How far do you want to be behind?"

He sighed in defeat. "Fine. But this better not cut into my other work."

Neville grinned. "What other work?" he said cheekily, getting a giggle out of Hermione, before she clapped her hands over her mouth looking guiltily at Ron, who had flushed red.

"Oh shut up Neville."

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"Didn't I say muggle means? I thought you'd do your usual work, not some theatrical spectacle." Gurnok ground the words out with effort.

George shrugged. "We thought Harry would be safer if his enemies were all panicking about they're own skins instead of looking for muggles to kill. Anyway, we're officially dead. No-one suspects us, let alone suspects we're living with the muggles." The Miller brothers nodded in agreement.

"So you decided to make the wizarding world think that a subfaction of Death Eaters are murdering the disloyal?" Gurnok sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Amelia's not pleased. She's been having to deal with the panic and its not just Death Eater that are on the run. Do you even realise how many of the Dark Lord's opponents have also fled England? You might have put the boy in even more danger." Gurnok had decided early on to not tell the assassins about Quirrell until he and Amelia were certain of his location. They hadn't wanted them doing anything pre-emptively.

One of the Millers, the medium sized one, shrugged. "They'll come back when they realise only Death Eaters are dying." Gurnok looked at the assassin's incredulously, before storming out. He should have known better than to hire assassins who were emotionally invested. The entire point of hiring these assassins was to keep the authorities in the dark. How long would that last? He was going to have to look into eliminating them before they endangered everything. Passing the lounge room of the muggle house, a raspy voice caught his attention.

"What are you doing here you little freak?" Gurnok turned to see Vernon in his wheelchair, clutching the cane he used to get around on foot, a knobbly piece of wood far too small for the whale of a man. "I thought I told you I didn't want to see your kind here." Vernon Dursley was evidently unaware of his house-mates' true nature, but Gurnok felt no need to tell him.

"Oh shut up, you broken old Gimp." Gurnok grinned nastily at the man's indignant response as he walked out the door, slamming it behind him. He knew it was immature, insensitive and cruel but walrus-baiting never got old.

Apparating from the safety of an alley, Gurnok appeared inside the front door of his small apartment. Shrugging of his coat, he hurried into the small study. Going through his muggle-style filing cabinet, he quickly found the hidden files he'd been looking for.

Star Wars George was originally named George Lucas. Apparently that was source of the joke with his job title but Gurnok certainly didn't understand it. Must have been a muggle thing. No living family. No known address. Nothing to allow him to track them down. Gurnok knew that the Millers' file were completely blank. They'd lost everything and decided to wipe the slate clean when they had nothing left to go back to.

A small device on Gurnok's desk buzzed, catching his attention. Damn. The assassins had left the Dursley house, along with all of their belongings. This was incredibly bad. If they decided to continue killing Death Eaters, they'd get caught eventually. Gornuk just hoped they wouldn't lead back to him or, more importantly, back to Harry.

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Rita Skeeta was in love with the chaos of the moment with so much fear to exploit and stoke. It was excellent for her stories. What she needed most however was solid fact. Rita had never had any problem spewing blatant lies, but lies became thin when you spread them too far, like butter on toast. She needed facts to twist, extrapolate and turn into larger lies. What she really wanted was the identity of the killers. That would be such a feather in her cap and would certainly ensure she had a job for the rest of her life. Rita knew she didn't really have any friends in the business. Her pen was too poisonous, her fame too coveted. Then again, she couldn't remember anyone ever liking her, apart from one very sweet boy she'd met at Hogwarts. Well, to hell with the lot of them.

Rita hadn't been able to enter St Mungo's as a beetle without setting off the contamination wards, but the Auror Offices were still wide open. Alastor Moody would probably shoot anything he saw in his office that he didn't recognise, but Shacklebolt hadn't noticed a thing yet and had access to all the cases. That would probably be as good a place to start as any. Rita frowned in frustration. Even so, the man locked his documents down tight. Unless she caught him gossiping like an old maid, she'd have to hope she'd get lucky.

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	26. Tragedy at St Mungos

**AN: Updated and betad**

**Disclaimer: No sale, no foul right?**

_Terror at St Mungo's! Dark Mark seen!_

_Twenty dead, more injured, _

_by Rita Skeeta_

_The Dark Lord's supporters have struck again. In a callous attack, the perpetrators of the murders of Messrs Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle appear to have changed targets from traitorous Death Eaters to injured war heroes. In the early hours of this morning a man in green cloak and silver mask was seen entering the permanent spell damage ward at St Mungo's. It appears that this man approached the beds of Frank and Alice Longbottom and unleashed fiendfyre, the same spell used to burn down Malfoy manor almost a month ago. _

_Having committed this dastardly act on two helpless and catatonic war heroes, the man cast the Dark Mark into the air above the hospital and fled. However, the fiendfyre was not to be contained easily and spread through the hospital, killing many patients before healers and a contingent of aurors managed to bring the blaze under control._

_What is the ministry doing to stop these attacks? Why hasn't this terrorist or possibly terrorists been brought to heal? Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the apparently incompetent Auror Office was unavailable for comment, but Amelia Bones Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, have released a statement that the investigation into these attacks is ongoing and has had the full resources of the Ministry placed behind it. Whether this is true, only time will tell._

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Quirrell smiled. His plan had gone perfectly. He'd been able to replicate the outfits of those damn assassins perfectly with his spy in the Auror Office and then it had been a cinch to get into St Mungo's and unleash fiendfyre. All he'd really needed was something to tie this murder to the others and that outfit, as pretentious as it had been, had been perfect.

God bless Rita. His older school friend had been one of the few who had never looked down on him. She always had been a more unusual Slytherin he mused. He only hoped she was careful when she was poking around in the Auror Offices. It wouldn't do to reveal their secret. Of course Quirrell had never let her know his goings on, she only thought her sweet little friend was attempting to help further her career. He'd given her a number of little hints on where to look and she had no idea he was using the information she'd given him was being used to force the ministry to hunt his master's enemies.

Amelia Bones was not going to be able to fudge the investigation now. There had to be more evidence. The assassins simply couldn't be that good. Could they? This worry was met by another one. What about Rita? He'd put her in far too much danger. Quirrell could only hope someone in the ministry was vaguely competent.

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Gornuk sighed as he read the paper. This was why he'd wanted his hired guns to keep a low profile. He knew their previous work. Hit and runs, hunting accidents, tragic building collapses, one or two mob style assassinations. They'd been invisible, never drawing retribution or unwanted police attention. Now they looked like terrorists who had murdered a pair of war heroes.

At least they'd managed to remove every sign of a connection with Gurnok, so he had no reason to have them removed. Even so, the others were not going to be happy. He did not look forward to meeting with Albus or Moody. They had something over Amelia and him now. Gurnok doubted they would let them forget his mistake.

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Neville hadn't been seen in a couple of hours and Harry could see the others worrying. He could understand why Neville wanted to be alone, but he didn't like it any more than them. Harry just hoped Neville would be willing to talk to them when he was ready.

Currently they were in the library, preparing for exams. The biggest problem was Defence Against The Dark Arts. Harry and his friends were probably better prepared than all the other students combined, aside from some of the Ravenclaws, but Quirrell had ruined any chance of them having a thorough education.

Harry really hoped Neville would meet them soon. The boy definitely needed more practice. It didn't make sense to him. Neville's wand technique and understanding had to be perfect before most spells would even work for him at all. Sometimes he wondered whether Neville was magically weak, but didn't really like considering that.

"Hermione, what happens when you don't have a matched wand?" asked Harry, another thought forming in his mind. He knew Neville's gran had given him his father's wand when he'd come to Hogwarts. Harry had to wonder whether Ollivander the wand makers statement about the wand choosing the wizard was right.

"Well, its supposed to be much harder to perform magic," replied Hermione, frowning. "A wand is basically a way to channel your magic into the world. If your wand doesn't match you, the magic can't flow properly, sort of like the wrong pipe in plumbing. Why do you ask?"

Harry winced. "Neville's been using his dad's wand all year. His gran wanted him to have it."

Hermione pursed her lips angrily. "Well its no wonder Neville's casting is so poor. What was she thinking? He's not his father."

"That's the problem," Harry said sighing. "She wants him to be." He remembered back to the first time he'd met Neville at the platform.

"Well," replied Hermione fiercely. "We'll just have to get him to replace it. He can't fail because he hasn't been given the right equipment."

Ron fidgeted uncomfortably. "I wouldn't say anything about it yet Hermione. His parents just died. That wand probably feels like all he has left of them. I know my wand isn't matched, but it belonged to Charlie and Uncle Gideon before him. Even if I could afford it, I'm not certain I'd want to replace it just yet."

"Well that's just stupid-"

"Uncle Gideon died in the last war," said Ron, his anger flaring. "Having this wand is like having a part of him. Its family tradition Hermione. "I wouldn't expect you understand how important it is for us."

Hermione stared at Ron, looking extremely hurt. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice wavering.

His face flushed as he realised how he'd sounded. "Oh god Hermione I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that!" But it was too late. Tears forming in her eyes, she pushed her chair out and ran from the library, followed by an apologising red head.

Scooping up their things so they wouldn't get nicked, Harry followed to find Ron hugging Hermione tightly as she sobbed into his shoulder. Everyone he spoke to was on edge at the moment. Harry only hoped they would catch Quirrell soon or things were going to get even more out of hand.


	27. Quirinus Quirrell and the Dinner Date

**AN: Updated and betad**

**Disclaimer: We all know it.**

Harry looked up from Hermione's morning paper, finding nothing interesting to read. After the chaos of the holidays, the killings had suddenly stopped overnight. All the paper had had for weeks now were articles on the potential incompetence of the Auror Office under Rufus Scrimgeour or speculation on the identities of the assassins. There were theories on their numbers, powers, skills, plans and allegiance and Harry was certain non of the articles contained a hint of truth on the matter. All the journalist Rita Skeeta seemed to do was stir up trouble and cause a panic.

"How did you find the Potions Exam?" said Ron, sitting down at the table and pulling over a plate laden with pancakes. Some sort of syrup, some bacon and an egg soon joined the pancakes on his overladen plate and he began to eat vigorously.

"Horrible," said Harry, making a face. Ron nodded in agreement. "I just don't get how anyone could remember all those facts. It isn't that I don't try, it's just that Snape makes it impossible to remember anything when he's staring over your shoulder."

"Personally I used my herbology knowledge. It's not that hard when you realise Snapes not that scary." Ron, Harry and Hermione, who had been reading a book, all turned and stared in surprise at Neville. He shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. "What?"

"Since when did you stop being scared of Snape?" asked Ron incredulously.

"Since I realised I didn't care about his opinion of me," replied Neville smoothly. "The guy's a creep." Hermione looked scandalised, but Harry and Ron burst out laughing.

"Neville's grown some teeth." Harry shook his head in amusement. "Always thought you had it in you Neville. I just never thought I'd get to see it." Neville grinned back, pleased.

"What are we doing today?" asked Ron, reaching for the pumpkin juice.

"Hagrid sent me an invite," said Harry. "I think he'd like to meet you guys. He said he wanted to show me Fluffy, his pet Cerberus, whatever that is."

Hermione looked up in shock. "Cerberus? Hagrid has a Cerberus?"

"Er Yeah?" replied Harry in confusion. "Why do you ask? Is it rare?"

Hermione looked at the boys, exasperation clear on her face. "Cerberus? Giant three headed dog the Ancient Greeks thought guarded the underworld. Ring any bells?" As they stared blankly at her Hermione growled in annoyance. "Honestly."

"So I take it you all want to come? said Harry, glancing around at his friends.

"Of course we do," replied Hermione. "No-one is passing up the chance to see something that rare." Harry glanced at Ron and Neville grinning at their expressions. They knew not to argue with her when she was like this.

HPHPHP

Rita Skeeta sat in the private area of a nicer muggle restaurant in London, fidgeting impatiently. Quirrell wasn't usually this late. Was he alright? Quirinus could handle himself, she knew that, but what if he ran into a muggle gang? He couldn't very well take on six men on his own.

"Sorry I'm late Rita," said a voice from behind her. "Damn muggle cabs."

"That's all right Quirry," said, beamed Rita up at her eccentric friend as he came round the table and sat down. "How are you?"

He shrugged non-committally. "Better. I've had a little success at work recently which should pay off brilliantly in the long run. That is, if everything goes to plan. And you? How is your investigation going?"

Rita was dying to know what he'd been up to, but knew better than to ask. Apparently it was all very confidential and she didn't want to do anything that might hurt Quirry's new career, especially since he'd left Hogwarts. "Nothing knew," she said, pouting a little. "I've had to be more careful recently. The aurors know they have a leak now. I don't think their investigation has turned up anything knew for a while, but I can't be sure."

Quirrell looked slightly disappointed at that. "I would have thought they might have found something on the murderers."

Rita laughed. "Oh come now Quirry," she said teasingly. "This is the ministry we're talking about. The only problem for me is that my editor's been getting restless. He's been riding me for a new scandal for a while now. I just hope one shows up I can really sink my teeth into, or I might be in trouble."

"I'm sure things will look up soon Rita," he said comfortingly. "I'll send any information I hear over your way. Just," Quirrell paused, giving her a pleading look, "please be careful. When I encouraged you to go after the auror office I hadn't really considered the dangers that could pose for you. Please be careful."

"Of course," replied Rita, surprised. "I wasn't in Slytherin for nothing."

"Its just that," Quirrell paused, looking nervous. "Well, Rita you're basically the only friend I ever had. I'd kill myself if I thought I'd gotten you hurt."

Rita was struck silent, blushing. After a few moments she found enough of her voice to make a non-committal noise he chose to take as an agreement. "What are you having to eat anyway?" she asked, hoping to redirect the conversation.

"I don't know," replied Quirinus, flipping through his menu. "What are we doing after dinner anyway? You said you had some time to kill."

Rita looked very carefully at hers, trying not to appear nervous. This was a crazy idea, but she supposed fortune favoured the bold. "I was thinking we could head back to my place. We haven't seen enough of each-other recently, but of course we don't have to if you don't want to." She left it hanging there, praying she hadn't overstepped their boundaries and snuck a look at Quirinus.

"Oh." Rita flinched at the surprise in his voice. She must have overdone it. When Quirrell had said she was his only friend she'd thought, well- Her thoughts were cut of by his sudden response. "I'd like that." She glanced up at him, breaking into a wide grin when she realised he looked about as nervous as she'd felt.

"Oh thank god for that."

Quirrell looked alarmed. "What? Is something wrong?"

Rita's smile became sheepish. "I thought I'd just royally fucked up."

HPHPHP

"Do you think he's the one who burnt Malfoy Manor and St Mungo's?" asked Star Wars George, staring at the man in the purple turban sitting with the green clad witch through his magically enhanced telescope. Shame that they hadn't had a chance to bug the restaurant before Skeeta had arrived, but they hadn't been observing her for long enough to know her favourite places yet. They looked like they were on some sort of date, but it could have been a secret business meeting for all he knew.

Medium Miller shrugged. "Maybe. I say we go after Skeeta either way. See what she knows. The bitch has to be getting her information from somewhere." The woman's articles were mostly fabrications, but every so often a glimmer of truth appeared, which worried the lot of them.

Short Miller nodded in agreement. "I'd like a chance to question Rita Skeeta," he said, a nasty glint in his eye. "When can we get at her?"

George shrugged. "We'll have to play it by ear. She keeps odd hours with her job." He scooped up his telescope. "I say we watch her for a while longer, then catch her at home."

The Millers nodded in agreement. It that woman knew anything about that copycat, they needed to get it out of her and soon. The copycat had to die.


	28. Portaits

**AN: Updated and betad**

**Disclaimer: Do what you want because a pirate is free, YOU ARE A PIRATE! (Just don't make money off fan-fiction.**

Gornuk, Amelia and Dumbledore sat tensely around the table in a private room of the Leaky Cauldron. "So," said Dumbledore, looking stern. "We all agree the assassins were a mistake." He glance around the table, seeming to focus on the shame and anger on Gornuk's face.

"You've made your point," replied Gornuk testily. Dumbledore was deliberately goading him, he knew it. Well, to be fair to the old man, he wouldn'thave considered it goading. He probably would have thought of it as 'admonishing' or 'discipling'. This was why you should never allow someone to be a teacher and a politician at the same time Gornuk thought angrily.

"What I want to know is when you were planning on telling us about the horcrux in Harry's scar." Gornuk winceed all as soon as the words left his mouth. He probably should have been more tactful, but his temper was short and they'd all overindulged in the fire-whisky.

"I had a theory, but can you imagine if I'd said something and it got out? Can you imagine how the community would have treated Harry?" Dumbledore ran his hand through his hair, clearly stressed. "We'd be lucky if they didn't put him under lock and key, or accidentally kill him. And what if I was wrong? What then?" Dumbledore turned to Gornuk, fixing him with a fierce stare. "Are you sure?" said the old man. "We don't need another mistake on our hands."

"Positive." Gornuk sneered slightly. "My friends in Arkham even think there is probably more than one, but weren't positive on the exact number. Why didn't you mention this to us anyway? Have we shown any sign we wish anything but the best for the boy?"

"Yes Albus," said Amelia, her anger obvious. "Why didn't you? We could have launched efforts to confirm whether it was fact and gone after the others."

Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably. "I was uncertain of the facts and didn't feel you'd appreciate unsubstantiated theories. Even if-"

"Ha! If-"

"Enough!" Amelia glared at the pair, though Dumbledore bore the brunt of it. Gornuk gave her an apologetic look. He knew he'd nearly letthe meeting descend into a shouting match. "Why don't we focus on the matter at hand, which I personally feel is how are we going to find these horcruxes and when should we start?"

Amelia had been fuming about this ever since Gornuk had told her. He was actually a little glad, because otherwise her anger would have been focused on his uncontrollable hired guns. Gurnok had no shame in admitting to finding Amelia very intimidating.

Dumbledore smiled, a little superiority sliding back onto his face. "I think I might have an idea on how to find them, though I feel moving on them while Quirrell is still at large would be a bad idea. We should probably wait until we've been able to pin all the crimes on Quirrell before attempting anything."

Amelia nodded. "Moody's still searching for evidence to twist. It'll be a while, probably enough to locate them. I think your friends said there were at least two aside from Harry's scar, is that correct Willan?"

He nodded slightly. "Howard theorised it was the most likely number. He wondered about a total of seven, but it proved unlikely when he ran the arithmancy. Seven pieces including the central piece is apparently magically powerful, but far too unstable for the user's mental health." Gornuk could see the others mulling over that part.

"So, shall we assume that there are six horcruxes plus the accidental one in Harry, just in case?" asked Amelia, groaning as Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Oh hell."

HPHPHP

Harry stepped through the door of his basement house, glad to be back home after the long train trip. This place had sort of become Harry's castle, with all its quietness and blessed privacy. He quickly dropped the bags on the floor and moved to help Lupin, finding he'd already stepped inside, easily lifting the trunk.

"You do realise this thing has lightening charms, don't you Harry?" Lupin said, grinning. "The little button by the handle?" Harry hadn't actually, since he'd never bothered with the manual. He scowled as he lifted his bags and followed Lupin. "So which is your room Harry?" called Lupin, glancing around in curiosity, since things had been moved around in their absence.

"First bedroom you come to." It was one of the smaller rooms, since Harry had found the larger rooms slightly unnerving. It probably had something to do with sleeping in a cupboard for so much of his life.

"Okay," Remus said, planting the trunk at the end of his bed. "Will you be alright on your own Harry? Its just that Tonks couldn't come in today since she has a test and I don't want to leave the store untended."

"Yeah," replied Harry nodding. "There is something I've been wanting to try out down here anyway."

Remus looked at Harry oddly. "Nothing dangerous I hope? You look like your mother just before the first time she blew up the potion's class room trying to make Felix Sorte."

Harry laughed, remembering that story, which forced him to wait a moment before he answered. "Not very. Honestly, I'll be fine."

Remus didn't look the least bit convinced. "Call if you need me."

"Don't worry, I will," laughed Harry. "Later Remus."

"Yes, well later Harry." The werewolf reluctantly walked out the door, closing it behind him.

Harry headed down the corridor a little way to the hidden door he could feel humming behind a china cabinet. When Gurnok and Harry had last tried the door they'd been focusing on the cabinet itself. It would be fairly accurate to say they'd rapidly found themselves going nowhere fast. Then during the written part of his charm exams, while reading a question about linking different objects he'd suddenly realised the solution wasn't in the cabinet itself.

The carvings they'd been so focused on were clues, not keys. The keys were the china cups he'd seen spread around the house. Harry moved around the house, collecting them in the order they appeared on the cabinet. Island, Swan, Kite, City, Mosquito, Eye, Squirrel, Fly, Bee, Princess. It was a charm lock, designed around a Russian fairytale. To unlock the door you had to know the story, find the cups and place them back in the cabinet in the correct order. It wouldn't work without knowledge of the story, which Harry thought was very clever since Russian muggle fairy-tales were about as obscure as you could get for a wizard, let alone another goblin.

The door slid aside as the last cup slid into place, revealing a small room, much like the rest of the house except for one thing; every wall was covered in pictures of goblins, sometimes in family groups and sometimes as lone portraits. The eyes of every goblin in the room swung around, looking at Harry in surprise.

"Um, hello," said Harry, not expecting anything like this. "Sorry to disturb you."

"A human Griphook?" asked a particularly old portrait close to the back. "Am I right? You shouldn't have been able to open the door without being a Griphook, you know. How did you come to be part of the family?"

Harry hadn't thought of that. "Yes, suppose I am," he said nervously. "I don't know why though. The other goblins would only told me it was a repayment."

The portraits muttered darkly amongst themselves, looking worried and the speaker slid through other portraits to get a better look at Harry. "Why are you her,e boy?"he asked, squinting at Harry.

"Curiosity sir," he replied uncertainly. "If you don't mind me asking, what is this room?" Harry gulped nervously. It was one thing to stared at by crowds of strange wizards, but goblins were another matter entirely.

"The memorial," replied the goblin who Harry now could see was dressed in Elizabethan style, wearing plate-mail. This might actually be Monall Griphook, who was mentioned in one of Harry's history texts and the only military man in the family. "The most recent Griphook ,who I'm assuming is dead considering your presence, moved us all here in 1979 when the rest of the family was destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry alarmed.

"Caught in a crossfire between Aurors and Death Eaters I believe," replied the goblin. "Poor fool never really recovered from it. Became obsessed with revenge on a Mr Alastor Moody and Lucius Malfoy I believe. Kept sending Moody poisoned pens. I don't really think he was trying that hard. But Lucius Malfoy..."

"What about Potter?" Harry asked on a hunch.

"Potter..." The Goblin sat for a moment, thinking. "Oh yes, I believe he was one of the aurors. My descendant," the Goblin spat the word with contempt, "was funnelling money away from their accounts. Extremely petty. Now I have no problem going after active participants, but virtual bystanders," the goblin snorted angrily, "well its embarrassing."

"So... you were originally spread around the house?" said Harry, reeling a little from the information and wanting to change the conversation fast. He was sick and tired of tales of death.

"Of course," piped up a smaller woman close to the doorway.

"Would you like to go back?" asked Harry, trying to polite.

Positive sounds spread through the room and the soldier nodded in approval. "What's your name boy?" he asked, a look of keen interest on his face.

"Harry Potter-Griphhook sir." A ripple of whispering spread through the room as the goblin's discussed this new information. After a few moments, they seemed to reach some sort of agreement.

The soldier looked at him carefully. "Very well, Mr Potter-Griphhok. Welcome to the family. How's your Gobbledegook?"


	29. Vengeance is Mine

**AN: Updated and betad**

**Disclaimer: I don't own what JKR does.**

Harry had woken up the next morning to find portraits neatly placed back on the walls throughout the house. The portraits had been just as surprised as Harry, not having noticed anything in their sleep. Harry mentioned the mysterious house elf possibly present and they admitted they'd never heard anything.

"Elf magic is very different to Goblin magic Harry," explained Monall from his place by the dining table. "Even if we saw it, we probably wouldn't recognise it."

"Why couldn't you?" asked Harry, frowning. "I know Gringotts takes in elves with no family to serve."

"That policy came a little after my time Harry," said the soldier, shrugging. "In fact, I don't think I can recall once laying my eyes on one of the little things."

Harry nodded in understanding, before remembering what Monall had said earlier. "Wait, so how is house elf different. from goblin magic? Does that mean goblin magic is different from human magic too? I just thought magic was magic, no-one ever told me about the differences."

Monall shook his head, frowing. "Doesn't that school teach anything useful?" Harry had mentioned the terrible history lessons at Hogwarts yesterday and it was fair to say he wasn't impressed. "Every being which uses magic forces it into the world in a different way. I would have thought this would be one of the basics taught in that history class, since it was the reason behind some of those rebellions that Binns fellow is so obsessed with."

Harry frowned. "This is about how the ministry banned non-humans from using wands, isn't it?"

Monall nodded sadly. "Indeed. Goblins are just naturally gifted in some areas that humans can't match. We're able to throw up wards in infancy and our ability to enchant or curse objects is legendary." A hint of pride had entered his voice and Harry could see the patriotic fervour in his eyes. "And what's more, we could do all this without a wand or a whisper. When I bought my first wand, oh you should have seen it Harry. I could craft wards mid battle, enchant the ground to drag down my enemies all the while fighting with my dagger in the other hand. It was magnificent. Pity the ministry decided we had grown too powerful and had to be put back into our place." The bitterness he felt was obvious.

Harry was slightly confused. "So why did you lose?"

"We never could cast aggressive spells like humans could. Most of us could barely manage a stupify,let alone an unforgivable." The soldier was clearly sore about his point. "We all knew how to throw up a shield spell, quite a few in fact, but have you tried charging an enemy line, fire raining down on you from all sides to try and kill the enemy with a blade?" Monall laughed sadly. "It just doesn't match up."

Harry winced sympathetically. It sounded a lot like the wars between the British Empire and African tribes he'd learnt about in school once.

"Tell you what Harry," said Monall, his mood suddenly swinging back to positive. "I might just teach you those shield spells. No-one will know what to make of you when you start throwing around Old Norse magic eh?"

"I was wondering if you might also teach me Gobbledegook sir," said Harry hopefully, but not trying to push his luck.

"I don't know Harry," replied Monall uncomfortably. "Its a hard language to learn, plus it can really tear up your throat if you're too young and not a goblin. I was just hoping you might know enough to get by. You don't need it to be one of us."

"I still want to learn it if I can sir. Maybe one of the other portraits could teach me." Harry really hoped he wasn't pushing his luck, but he had the idea in his head that learning Gobbledegook would impress Gornuk.

"Uh huh." The look Monall gave him showed he knew Harry's reasons. "I'll have a word with one of the women. They usually teach our young ones."

Lupin had been a little alarmed when he was invited down and introduced to the paintings. Harry didn't think the looks of distrust most were giving him helped. It took Harry a little while to convince them Remus was alright and eventually most were fine with his presence, especially when they realised his condition. Apparently goblins trusted people who didn't trust the ministry.

Remus took to using one of the warded back rooms in the store to continue Harry's Defence training and occasionally Tonks would pop by, but Auror training prevented her from showing up more than once a week. Remus and Tonks usually spent a lot of that time looking awkward, but Harry knew better than to comment on it. Gornuk had mentioned their... thing when he and Ted had picked Harry up from the Express

Sadly, Gornuk wouldn't accept invitations to come over. "Its kind of awkward for a goblin Harry. Being in another family's house feels both extremely intimate and very dangerous for us. I just wouldn't feel comfortable and I doubt the portraits would approve either." Harry had nodded his understanding, but still felt disappointed. He'd been going to cook.

A few weeks later, Harry received an invite to the Burrow, the Weasley home. After a short conversation with Remus, who thought it sounded like a good idea, he found himself being apparated there the next day, since Remus had warned him off floo powder. Harry decided it was not a process he enjoyed, but admitted it was probably better than being covered in soot and lost.

Popping into existence at the front door, Harry was amazed by the bizarreness of the Burrow. The building was lucky it had magic to hold it up, otherwise it probably would have fallen over like a stack of cards. It was a sure sign of hard times. The extension charms had been probably been done by the family instead of authorised builders since it didn't have the neat layout or pleasing aesthetic that kind of money bought.

Harry looked back to the front door as it swung open. "Welcome," said a plump red haired woman wearing an apron. "You must be Harry and his uncle. Come inside Mr..."

"Lupin, Remus Lupin." Harry grinned at the wording as Remus reached forward and shook Molly's hand. "And actually I'm just a neighbour."

"Oh, of course, you apparated in." Molly blushed and stepped back into the house. "Silly me. Come on in and make yourself at home. Ron! Harry's here!"

Ron came down the stares with the all the noise of a small elephant, still in his pyjamas. "Harry mate! Good to see you. Neville's upstairs. I invited Hermione too, but she said she wanted to catch up with her folks when I called her on the Tellyphone." Ron looked slightly dejected at this. "Anyway come upstairs I'll show you my Chuddley Cannons posters." Remus laughed at Harry's expression as he was led away.

"Cup of tea?" asked Molly, her eyes twinkling in amusement. "Arthur always needs one after apparating."

Remus grinned, relaxing in the warmth of the Burrow. "I'd love one."

HPHPHP

Quirrell rubbed his head, cursing his master. They'd been having arguments every time Snake Face had the energy to wake up. What was worse, they'd all been about his relationship with Rita. Quirrell was positive Voldermort lacked the understanding to see why he wanted Rita so badly. Some part of Voldermort was missing, the part that gave a normal person their ability to love.

Recently, the arguments had been becoming more violent. He'd always wanted Rita, despite their age gap at Hogwarts and he'd finally had confirmation she'd wanted him the same way. Quirrell guessed Voldermort didn't like Quirrell's life being less important to him than Rita's. Not that Quirrell wanted to die but he did have new priorities.

Quirrell sighed as he walked down the alley to the door of Rita's apartment, but came to a sudden stop as her saw her door, blasted to splinters. Something was wrong. Quirrell's wand was in his hand as he entered the apartment, already on high alert. His eyes landed on something on the coffee table in the living room. A muggle pistol, complete with a sound suppressor lay gleaming in the light. Oh god. The assassins. It all made sense now. They were using muggle weapons to make their attacks untraceable. Quirrell summoned it to him from his place in the corridor, but dropped it as soon as he felt the magic buzzing and the gun dissolved into a pile of red hot metal. Quirrell ducked for cover behind the couch as the gunpowder proceeded to cook off, spraying bullets and liquid metal across the room. He looked up, seeing how close one had come to killing him right through his cover.

"Someone's here!" called a harsh voice and a tall man stepped through a doorway into the hallway, wearing green robes and silver snake mask. "Shit! Its Towel-Head!" The man went for his wand, but Quirrell was faster, striking the man dead with a killing curse and moving forward to catch the body before it fell. Quirrell quickly aimed under its arm at the next wizard turning to face him, a sawn off shotgun in his hand. The man was caught squarely in the chest, crumpling to the ground like paper just as he managed to get a shot off.

Quirrell was glad he had a human shield otherwise that shot would have killed him. Instead, it knocked him to the ground, pinning him under the body. Quirrell winced as he felt the man's plate-mail dig into his side and blasted the body away. He stood up and moved to cover by the door of Rita's bedroom. How many were there?

"Burn the place to the ground!" Quirrell's face paled. He glanced into the room to find the bed ablaze and one of the assassins apparating away. A second pop came from further in the apartment, near the bathroom. Quirrell rushed down the corridor. They'd copied his habit of using fiendfyre and though he could have fought it under control, he was more worried about Rita. Coming to the bathroom door, he heard quiet sobbing and entered, finding a sight he had never wanted to see.

"Oh god. Rita?" Quirrell rushed over to where she lay in the corner, but she flinched away from his touch. "Rita, listen," he said, struggling to keep his voice calm. "Its Quirry. We have to get out now. They've lit the apartment on fire. Hold onto me, okay. I won't let go." Quirrell found her shaking arms quickly wrapped around his neck and he stood, scooping her up with difficulty. As he apparated away, watching a wall of flaming animals running to catch him, he determined one thing. He was going to kill those bastards for this if it was the last thing he did. He didn't care whether his master wanted information or not, he was not giving them a chance to escape. He owed it to Rita.


	30. Broken wands, Broken heads

******AN: Updated and betad.**

******The Russian Fairy-tale was from one of my favourite picture books as a child. Its called the Tale of Tsar Saltan if you want to look it up. Also, in case your wondering British call sawed-off shotguns sawn-offs.**

******Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Neville had changed. There was a new determination in his eyes, almost as if he'd given up on his fear. They quickly realised this when he joined in on their games of Quidditch with the twins and Ron's sister Ginny, who Neville had asked to join to balance the teams. His flying was still poor compared to the others but much better than anyone expected. Added to that, he'd determinedly take hits he shouldn't have to get the quaffle off the Fred and Ginny. It was like Neville was trying to prove something to himself. Harry had a feeling it might have had something to do with his relationship with his family, but said nothing.

Ginny didn't really talk much. The twins were amazed at her skill at Quidditch, especially since they didn't know she could even fly, but even they were having trouble getting a peep out of her when Harry was around. It was a little uncomfortable, especially when Ron told him she'd been going on about him all month.

The Burrow was wonderful, although it did have one problem: the twins. Harry liked Fred and George, but they were obsessed with pranks. Harry found his hair turned blue one day and Neville had goat ears on another. It was really annoying. Ron told horror stories from when he was younger and the twins were much more malicious, so he knew it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but frankly Harry found it hard to laugh at some of their pranks.

Then on the third day at the burrow, things went... bad. Neville wanted to visit Ottery St Catchpole. He'd never been to a muggle village, since his grandmother could be very overbearing. So Ron had gotten up early in the morning, grumbling like the world would end.

"Come on Ron," said Harry, irritated. They were still inside his room waiting for him to get dressed.

"Hang on a second," he groaned irritably. "I don't see what the big deal is."

"Well some of us have never had breakfast at a muggle cafe," countered Neville. Harry nodded in agreement. Apart from a few times with Ted, he'd basically never even eaten out.

"Fine," snapped Ron, pulling on clothes that wouldn't embarrass him among muggles. "But it's not even that different to Mum's cooking."

"I thought you mentioned that there were croissants," replied Harry, grinning. "Come on, let's go." Reaching forwards, Neville and Harry grabbed Ron by his arms and frog marched him to the door. Pushing it open, they pushed him out into the corridor, straight into a crouching Fred and George, who looked up startled from their work booby-trapping Ron's door.

Neville reached forwards, grabbing at Ron's sleeve, but found himself following his friend, crashing to the ground in a tangle of legs. Fred and George tried to stop them, but collapsed under their weight, instead pushing them into the wall. Then there were a pair of painful snaps.

"Boys?" Molly came up the stairs, frowning in concern. Her face turned into a mask of fury as she saw Ron and Neville staring at the broken wands they'd pulled out of their pockets and the twins hurriedly standing, looking guilty. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW?"

HPHPHP

So now, instead of sitting in a restaurant, eating croissants, they were sitting in the Burrow's kitchen, eating bacon and listening to Molly Weasley berate the twins.

"How could you do something so stupid? Not only have you broke Ron's wand, but you've destroyed Neville's as well. He's a guest! What will his grandmother think?"

"We're sorry mum-"

"Honestly. We-"

Molly wasn't having any of it, cutting the twins off. "Don't start that with me, young men-" Ron silently gestured to Neville and Harry and they quietly left the room to avoid the rest.

"I'm really sorry Neville," said Ron, looking ashamed. "I know it was your dad's wand."

"It's okay," said Neville, wearing a brave face. It clearly wasn't. He looked awfully close to tears and Harry thought he understood.

"You don't have to get rid of it Neville," said Harry sympathetically. "Keep it if its important to you."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. It's a family heirloom and that doesn't change even if its broken."

Neville looked a little happier. "I guess." He looked back at the kitchen door. "Think we should go back in and finish our breakfast?"

Ron snorted. "Just leave it well alone for a while mate. Its about to get a lot louder."

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Ron, Neville and Harry ended up finishing breakfast in Diagon Alley, sitting in the Leaky Cauldron between Mrs Weasley and a very haughty looking Augusta Longbottom. It would be fair to say it was a very tense meal.

Augusta Longbottom had insisted on meeting to replace the wands immediately and Mrs Weasley had embarrassed enough to agree to just about anything. "Come Neville. We'll have to go deal with that Ollivander."

Molly winced at the tone in Augusta's voice but didn't comment. "We'd better head to Gringotts Ron. Harry, how about you take a look around."

"I'll come with you," said Harry. "I need to have a word with someone there anyway. I can meet you in the main hall after you're finished."

They quietly followed Mrs Weasley through the alley, past street vendors, stores and traders, eventually reaching Gringotts through the press. The unusually short Quidditch game that morning meant that the alley was doing a roaring trade. Harry was very glad no-one paid him any attention except for Rustgold, a goblin stockbroker he'd met with Gornuk one time, who gave him a playful wink.

"Your shares doing well sir?" he asked politely.

Rustgold grinned. "Yes, as are yours. Good day to you Mr Griphook." This was said at a low whisper and Harry barely heard it above the crowd.

"See you sir." Ron looked at Harry funnily and he shrugged. "I met him over Christmas. It always pays to be polite to goblins. Plus his wife makes the best biscuits"

Ron looked like he was about to ask Harry more when he stepped through the inner silver doors and a crack of thunder rolled through the bank. Ron stared in horror as his trouser pocket tore open and a fat rat hit the floor with a thud.

"Bloody hell! What the hell was that? Holy Sh-" Ron's stream of profanity came to an abrupt stop as he saw his pet rat Scabbers writhing around on the ground, encased in red-gold light. "Scabbers? What's happening?"

Everyone in the bank turned around to look at the spectacle as slowly, the rat enlarged and though it was surrounded by light it soon became obvious it was looking less and less like a rat. Slowly, a fat man with a rat-like face, missing his right index finger, appeared on the stone floor, panting like he'd just run a long race.

"That's Peter Pettigrew!" yelled Harry in shock.

"Who? Where's Scabbers?" Ron was in shock, staring at the man on the ground. "That can't be Scabbers, can it?"

Light finally stopped swirling around the man and he leapt to his feet. Molly shrieked when the man grabbed for Ron, twisting his arm behind his back with one hand and grabbing his throat with the other. "Stay back or the boy gets it!" yelled the man in a high pitched, panicky voice. "Stay back, I said!" He stared in terror as in a flash Molly Weasley aimed her wand at his head.

"Get away from my son you Bastard!" Molly's voice was almost a snarl and Harry heard Pettigrew whimper in fear.

"I don't want to hurt him, but I will!" His voice had somehow gone an octave higher. "Now-"

CRACK! Pettigrew crumpled as the butt of one of the security teams' halberds crashed into the side of his head. "Get his arms!" yelled the red uniformed goblin, gesturing to two of his fellows. They sprang to, quickly twisting the man's hands behind his back and clamping rune covered irons around his wrists and a second pair around his ankles. "Take him to the security cell. You!" A young looking bank teller jumped as the guard pointed at him. "Tell the aurors we have a prisoner."

"Yes sir," said the goblin, getting down from his seat at the bench and practically running out of the bank. Harry, Ron and Mrs Weasley were lost in all the chaos for a moment, before coming face to face with the pointy bearded goblin.

"Excuse me Madame and Young Sirs," said the goblin, in what he probably thought was a comforting voice. "Would you please come with me?"

"Why?" asked Mrs Weasley, looking overwhelmed by the attention of every wizard, witch and goblin in the bank.

"We need to discuss why your son was carrying an animagus into Gringotts in his pocket," replied the goblin. "Especially since that animagus has such a close resemblance to a dead man."

Molly Weasley stared around at the growing crowd, looking ready to faint. "O-okay," she said weakly.


	31. Chapter 31: Visiting Ollivanders

**AN: Augusta Longbottom isn't meant to be a villain or cruel. She's just an older woman, set in her ways and used to getting her own way, who doesn't like being contradicted.**

**Disclaimer: I'm male and living in Australia, so I can't be JKR.**

At the same time the entrance of the bank was erupting in chaos, Augusta Longbottom was entering Ollivander's wand shop, staring around the dusty little shop with a look of disapproval. The Longbottoms and the Ollivanders had always had tense relations, ever since an Ollivander had laughed in the face of a Longbottom's proposal. Neville stepped past her quickly, ignoring her remarks on the state of the place and raking the shop with his eyes.

"Neville Longbottom," said a voice from behind a shelf. "I was expecting you last year." Garrick Ollivander's silvery eyes shone out from the dark of the shelves.

"Hello Mr Ollivander," said Neville, before his grandmother could comment. "I haven't had to come since I've been using been using my father's wand. Unfortunately, there was an accident." Augusta huffed at this, but Neville quietly ignored her, eyes focused on the odd little man stepping out from the shelves to stand behind the counter.

"I'm assuming this accident involved muggle pockets?"

Neville stared at Ollivander. "Er... I guess?"

Garrick sighed, producing a measuring tape from behind the counter. "One of the disadvantages of muggle clothing; the pockets are never big enough for the entire wand. I'm assuming you fell and the handle snapped?" Neville nodded. "I thought that would be it. Old fashioned robes have larger pockets, but if you have to wear a wand with anything else, you should dig out your father's old wand holster. The age of the wand probably wouldn't have helped either, especially depending on how it was stored in the time between its use." A flick of Ollivanders wrist and the tape measure sprang to attention. "Your wand arm, Mr Longbottom?"

Neville shifted uneasily. "Right?"

Ollivander looked at him carefully. "Are you sure? You shouldn't believe that left hand of the devil superstition, you know."

Neville glanced at his Grandmother. "I'm left handed actually." The tape measure began taking measurements and Ollivander smiled proudly.

"Good, Mr Longbottom. I must say, breaking your wand was probably for the best," said Garrick, turning to his shelves. "Your father's wand was made of hornbeam with a unicorn tail hair for a core. The wand chooses the wizard of course, but those two materials rarely accept another master."

"Wands don't run in families?" Augusta Longbottom looked scandalised by the very concept. "But my father used grandfather's wand with no issues and Frank's wand was also very powerful. What are you insinuating?"

Garrick flicked his hand dismissively. "Nothing at all. Your father and grandfather were an unusually close match, Mrs Longbottom. As for your son, it wasn't his wand that was powerful. Enough!" The tape measure snapped back into place and disappeared behind the counter. "Well Mr Longbottom," he said, a gleam in his silvery eyes. "Lets find your wand, shall we?"

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Harry sat, fidgeting slightly as the aurors questioned Mrs Weasley and Ron. They'd appeared in force, sweeping into Gringotts, carrying even more chains for Pettigrew before dragging him out. Even the head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour, had appeared in full uniform, scowling at anyone who came too close.

"He's just unhappy it's the goblins' collar and not his," Gornuk whispered quietly. "He can't get the glory for this one. In fact, Pettigrew's capture could damage quite a few careers at the ministry."

"Whose?" asked Harry, alarmed.

"Barty Crouch, former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, for one," replied Gornuk, smiling grimly. "An unpleasant man. Fudge will probably sail clear however and Amelia Bones, the current head of the Department, has been investigating the case against Sirius Black, so this'll probably help her." Gornuk stood up, stretching. "Looks like the aurors are finishing up. Let's get your friends some tea."

Molly Weasley had obviously not had a fun time, needing four cups of tea before she stopped shaking. Ron just sat letting his tea go cold, staring at the wall, shocked. Harry suggested that maybe they should just head back to the burrow, but Molly was having none of that.

"Now Harry, we came here for a reason," she said, putting on a brave face. "We'll head to our vault while you have your meeting, then we'll head down to Ollivanders." So Harry found himself sitting in Gornuk's office, waiting for the Weasleys.

"So," said Gornuk, clearly uncomfortable with the silence. "I hear you found out how to enter the hidden room. Don't tell me how you did it, it's not my place to ask. What I wanted to know is whether it's true that you have a portrait of Monall Griphook."

"Yes sir," said Harry, grateful for something to talk about. "He's been very helpful."

"No doubt he has," replied Gornuk. "Don't tell him anyone mentioned this, but there's a rumour he had a human mistress."

"Mistress sir?"

Gornuk stared at Harry for a moment, searching his face. "A little something on the side? An extra squeeze?" Harry's brow furrowed in confusion and Gurnok groaned. "I guess no-ones given you the talk, have they Potter?"

"What talk?" replied Harry, looking alarmed.

Gornuk sat back steepling his fingers. Well, they had the time. "Hang on one second. We'll need some more tea if we're going to talk about this."

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Half an hour later a red faced Harry left the bank behind Ron and Molly, who tried very hard to ignore the stares. The crowd had only grown with the excitement and so pushing through past the press of tourist, shoppers and reporters was very difficult. After a long struggle, they finally made their way to Ollivanders and made their way through the door.

"Well Mr Longbottom, you may just be one of my trickiest customers yet, even more so than the young Mr Potter." Amazingly Neville was still being fitted.

"Why is my grandson having such trouble?" came Augusta's frosty tone, freezing the intruders inside the doorway.

"Trouble?" asked Ollivander, sounding surprised. "No trouble at all. Mr Longbottom here is just more specific than most. I'd say its the result of the amount of emotional change he's currently going through. Come back in a few weeks, after I have a chance to build a few new wands."

"How much will that cost," said Augusta stiffly.

"Nothing at all. Now, Ronald Weasley, I believe you also need a wand."

Ron stepped forward sheepishly. "Yes sir."

Augusta turned away stiffly, clearly embarrassed. "Very well. Come on Neville."

"I'd rather finish the week with the Weasleys please Gran." Harry stared at Neville, stunned. He would never have expected Neville could have said something like that to someone like his gran. He'd seen changes, but Neville had always sounded so afraid of his grandmother.

Augusta also seemed startled, judging her son with a look of surprise plastered on her face. "Very well," she said after a long moment of silence. "Good day Molly. I'll pick Neville up in a few days." She swept out the door before Molly could reply, leaving her flustered.

Ollivander grinned wickedly, stepping neatly into the gap in the atmosphere Augusta Longbottom had just left with the air of a showman. "Well, now that's sorted, what is your wand arm Mr Weasley?"

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	32. Chapter 32: A Black point of view

**AN: Currently up to Chapter 3 has been beta'd. Thanks Liv Q!**

**Disclaimer: I don't get a penny for this.**

A little while after returning to the burrow, Neville received a letter from his grandmother. Apparently she'd been informed of the 'Gringotts Incident' as she called it and wanted him home right away. Neville simply sent back a letter, politely informing her that whatever danger the fugitive may have posed was long gone. Also, Weasleys had been questioned by the aurors and been let go in under two hours, something that would not have happened if they were suspected of anything. After that there'd been a short terse note telling him to enjoy his time and that was the end of it.

Harry was troubled by all this. Sirius Black was his godfather and intended legal guardian, but he'd never met the man. How would his life change if he was released, which he was sure to be? Harry knew that unlike Remus, Sirius had been a central figure in the bullying of Snape. Remus had grown up, Harry could tell, looking very guilty the one time Harry had brought it up, but he had no idea what kind of man Sirius was. At some level Harry had wanted him out of Azkaban, but now he wasn't so sure.

Harry ended up sending a letter to Gornuk filled with his worries and concerns. The next day, Hedwig returned with a brief note acknowledging Harry's worries as genuine and promising to ensure Dursley's puppet guardianship was ironclad. Harry sighed with relief when he read this and finally relaxed for the rest of the holiday.

It was only the three friends plus Ginny playing Quidditch now. Fred and George had been grounded and been forced to pay for the replacement wands by a very angry Molly Weasley. Admittedly Neville was still waiting to acquire his, but Molly had sent a letter to his grandmother, telling her to send the bill to the burrow addressed to the twins.

Sadly a few days later Remus arrived to pick Harry up. He'd really enjoyed his time at the Burrow, playing Quidditch and degnoming the garden. (Harry had quietly wondered why they didn't simply use one of those giant talking ferrets he'd read about, but didn't think it polite to ask.) None the less, after a few cups of tea, Harry bid goodbye to his friends and any Weasley in the house at the time and took Remus' arm. With a pop, he found himself deposited on the floor of the storeroom behind the book store.

"Brooms are so much better," he grumbled, picking himself up and dusting off. Remus grinned wryly at Harry, but chose not to comment and left to check on Tonks who he'd left in charge. Harry shook his head at their conversation in the shop front. That man was smitten, no doubt about it, but Harry had a feeling it would take a while before he admitted. He'd have to take that bet with Gornuk on when he thought they'd finally get together. Gornuk thought it would take less than a year, so it should be easy money. Harry grinned for a moment, before becoming stock still. How the hell was he going to keep a straight face around Monall now?

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It was the start of term and Sirius Black was sitting in 12 Grimmauld Place, fuming. When his freedom had finally been given, only after Wormtail, the snivelling traitor had broke down in front of the full Wizengamot, he'd been full of hope. He'd been looking forward to seeing his godson, perhaps even being his guardian if Harry was willing. However, the healers had decided to prevent that. They'd taken him to a newly refurbished St Mungos, sat him down and started testing him. His mind was fine! So what, he might still prefer playing a dog most of the time, but it was a hard habit to break for God's sake! He'd been living like that for ten years, what did they expect, miracles? And when he'd finally been released with a clean bill of health, only after drinking some truly horrifying potions, he found out that Harry was already at Hogwarts.

Sirius had sent a letter to Dumbledore requesting a meeting, who had replied by telling him he'd talk to Harry about it. In the mean time, Sirius had begun looking into talking to Harry's relative, Vernon Dursley. However, the man had flatly refused his letters and wouldn't even let Sirius into his home to discuss the matter. He'd even used some of his compensation money (not very much though) to bribe someone in the ministry to look into it, only to receive a reply that nothing could be done. Apparently someone had made certain Harry's guardianship was ironclad.

"Letter for the bad master," said a sulky voice. Sirius didn't even bother telling off Kreacher, instead grabbing the envelope of the old plate he was carrying and tearing it open. He whooped with joy. Harry had said yes! He read on a bit before frowning. Why should he have contacted Moony? He knew Lupin had been sending him letters since he'd been released, but he hadn't sent one when he was in Azkaban. Even if Remus was going to be at the meeting, nothing could spoil Sirius' mood for the rest of the day, not even when Kreacher deliberately burnt his dinner.

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Quirrell, unlike every other witch and wizard in England, hadn't read the papers in weeks. Instead, much to the Dark Lord's chagrin, he'd been caring for Rita. She'd slowly come out of her shell, speaking to him in short, quiet sentences. He'd told her about his condition. How could he not? She'd suffered because of it and he was certain she'd hate him, but he had to say it. She'd been quiet for a long time before telling him she understood he had no choice and giving a very brief kiss. He'd almost melted in relief at that but managed to stay fairly composed, though he was sure he had tears in his eyes.

"You okay?" Quirrell started, turning to see Rita out of bed for the first time since her ordeal, wrapped in a blanket.

"Fine," he said quickly, standing and moving to her side. "How about you? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine, all things considering." Rita smiled weakly, carefully sitting down in a chair at his kitchen table. "I could use a cup of tea though."

Quirrell sprung into action, pulling out kettle, milk, sugar, loose leaf tea and cup as fast as he could, setting everything up in record time. He turned to see Rita smiling in amusement at his energy. "Sorry. I'm just a little nervous you know." He carefully sat the steaming cup and saucer down in front of Rita, who picked it up very carefully.

"Thanks." Rita took a small sip before continuing. "This is good Quirry. So, what's been happening while I've been out of it?"

"I don't actually know," admitted Quirrell sheepishly. "I haven't been exactly been paying attention."

Rita playfully swatted at his arm. "Then go get the paper, you great fool! Go on, I'll be fine."

Quirrell laughed quietly, before apparating out of the muggle flat he'd procured to an alley near the Leaky Cauldron. Looking around quickly, Quirrell entered the pub and scooped this morning's paper from an inattentive patron. He quickly walked back outside, flipping the paper open and giving it a quick skim before stopping in his tracks as he saw the headline on page 7.

_Black's Release To Have Serious Consequences! Fudge's Career Threatened!_

Quirrell blinked a few times, rereading the line to make sure he wasn't imagining it. What the hell had happened over the last few weeks? Quirrell looked around before seeing a beggar in tatty robes at the end of the alley, sleeping in a pile of old copies of the Daily Prophet. Grabbing the man by the collar and violently shaking him awake, Quirrell pressed his wand to the base of the man's throat. "You," he said, spittle spraying into the terrified old man's face. "Tell me everything you know about Sirius Black."

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	33. Chapter 33: A year of changes

**AN: Neville has a new wand now, don't worry.**

**Disclaimer: I no take candle.**

Harry looked up at the painfully thin man in front of him, his hair still as lank his photo from Azkaban. He was beginning to wonder whether this had been a good idea, but it was too late now. Well, at least Remus was there, though who he really wanted was Gornuk. Harry stuck out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you sir," he said, trying to be polite.

The man's face fell. "Please Harry," he said, dropping to one knee to get a better look at Harry. "Call me Sirius. I'm not old enough to be a sir."

Harry dropped his arm awkwardly. "Hi Sirius." Calling an adult he didn't know by their first name felt wrong somehow, like he was breaking some taboo. Sirius gave a small, encouraging smile and Harry felt the urge to say something more. "I didn't ever think you'd done it, you know," he said sincerely.

The man's eyes filled with tears. "Thanks pup," he said hoarsely. "That means a lot."

Harry floundered for something else to say. "So, how is it being out of prison?" The moment the words left his mouth if felt wrong, but Sirius didn't seem to mind.

"Good, good," he replied, grinning. "I'm using some of my compensation money to fix up the family home. It's been empty for a few years now, so its developed all kinds of problems." His eyes became wistful. "After its all done, I'd been hoping you might like to come live with me. I was meant to be your guardian you know."

Harry tensed slightly. He'd been hoping this wouldn't come up. "I'm sorry S-Sirius, but I'm happy with my uncle."

"But I thought your relatives didn't like magic," pointed out Sirius pleadingly.

Harry winced. Sirius must have heard about them at some point. "He doesn't bother me about it and I don't bother him about it," he said, improvising. "He lets me have a lot of independence to live my own life."

Sirius nodded sadly at this, obviously seeing he wouldn't be swayed. "Okay pup, fair enough." He looked at Harry side ways, through the mane of hair he still had long. "Would it be alright if I visited you some time?" he said, craftily.

Harry could have swore. The man was clearly looking for cause to challenge his current guardian and Harry barely knew the man. "How about I visit you?" he replied smoothly. "Vernon's a bit of a shut in I'm afraid and finds magical folk a little scary. Remus could drop me off. I live fairly close to Diagon Alley, so I'm always seeing him." Right under it actually, but Harry wasn't about to mention that.

Sirius glanced up at Lupin, who'd remained silent throughout the entire meeting. "Yes," he said uncomfortably. "Yes, I suppose that would be okay." But there was a hint of ice in the man's voice that Harry didn't like. He had a feeling Sirius wasn't happy about Remus not believing his innocence while he was in prison. It would explain why his letters had been unanswered. Harry quickly change the conversation.

"Have you contacted Andromeda Tonks yet?"

Sirius blinked in surprise. "No I haven't. How do you know Andy?"

"I know her husband. He helped me find my feet in the wizarding world," replied Harry, deciding to leave put any details about the goblins. "You should owl her. I got the impression she really wanted to see you."

"Maybe," said Sirius without commitment.

"No, really," said Harry insistently. "I know a lot of people might have...", Harry paused for a moment, searching for the right phrase. "Fallen out contact, but that doesn't mean they don't want to change that. I didn't think you'd done anything, but I still didn't contact you because I was scared I might be wrong. How much worse would it be for someone who knew you?"

Sirius looked extremely uncomfortable, looking away from Harry and Lupin. "Yeah, okay. Fair point. I'll get in contact with my old friends." This last bit sounded more like it was directed at Remus, to Harry's relief. "So, Harry... how is school?"

Harry sighed internally. This conversation was not about to get less uncomfortable any time soon.

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Harry walked through the Great Hall, having seen off Sirius and Lupin, when someone called his name, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to see a boy he knew, thinner than before but still recognisable, accompanied by a stocky woman with short, grey hair.

"Goyle?" Harry asked, surprised at the change.

"Hey Harry," said Smart Gorilla. Harry was going to have to stop calling him that in his head. One day it might slip out.

"How are you doing?" asked Harry uneasily. He knew Goyle had only just been let out of St Mungos and wasn't certain how to act.

"Alright I guess," answered Goyle. "I have to repeat first year because I missed out on the exams, but I was probably going to have to do that anyway."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Goyle grinned. "Don't be. Maybe this time I'll actually learn something, right? Crabbe ain't coming back for some reason, so I won't have to worry about him slowing me down."

Harry stared at Goyle in surprise. "You want to learn?"

"Kind of." Goyle shrugged nonchalantly. "I just don't want people to think I'm stupid any more. Ever since I've been in St Mungos people have been looking at me like my brain is mush. Even mum, though she only calls it fuzzy." He jerked a large thumb at the grey haired woman, who was standing back, looking a little abashed.

"It's probably wrackspurts."

"What-spurts?" Harry and Goyle span around, staring at the back of a tiny, blonde haired girl who had just skipped past them, out of the large doors. "Any idea who that was Harry?"

"None," said Harry, looking puzzled.

"What are wrackspurts?" asked Goyle curiously.

"Hell if I know. Anything else you have to do this year Goyle? Paperwork, any of that kind of stuff?"

"I have to be resorted." Goyle slouched, looking embarrassed. "Apparently this much memory loss can lead to personality changes, so I'm getting resorted at tonight's feast. I'm going to end up in Hufflepuff for sure."

"Hufflepuff isn't that bad," countered Harry feebly.

"Uh huh," replied Goyle, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Whatever you say Potter. Well, anyway Mum and I had better head off. We're meeting Dumbledore. Apparently I'm getting sorted in his office. Wish me luck."

"Sure," Harry said, shifting a little. "Just to let you know, the hat takes suggestions."

"Thanks Harry," said Goyle, shuffling off after his mother. Harry shook his head in wonder. He'd always disliked Goyle less than the other Slytherins, but this Goyle felt strangely new. What with Neville Longbottom, this year appeared to be a year for changes. Harry just hoped for Goyles sake they were good ones.


	34. Chapter 34: Blood in the Street

**AN: Hello again. This might be the longest chapter I've written.**

**Disclaimer: nobody owns JKR's work but JKR.**

"So, how was it?" asked Neville, walking alongside Harry down to the lake. It was Sunday and he'd met Neville just after church.

"I think I was rude," said Harry. "I mean, I didn't mean to be. It's just that all I could think of was how Sirius and my dad were basically Draco Malfoy when they were at school."

"Seriously?" said Neville, eyes widening in horror. "Your dad was that bad? How the hell do you know?"

"Mr G got me their school records about a year ago. I mean, my dad improved, but I'm pretty sure only because he started dating my mum." Harry shrugged. "It doesn't excuse the way I acted, but you get it right? I mean, I hardly know the guy."

Neville held up his hand. "Hey Harry, I get it. He's a stranger and you never had much of a chance to think about meeting him, unlike Lupin. Oh, by the way, did you see Goyle this morning?"

Harry frowned. "No, why?"

Neville laughed out loud. "He was resorted. Can you guess where?"

Harry quickly lost his patience. "Yes I know he was resorted. Don't go teasing him okay. You know why he was being resorted, don't you?" Neville shook his head in confusion. "He's been in St Mungos, in the psych wing."

Neville's eyes widened in horror. "Oh Merlin. I just thought his mum had run away with him, like Draco."

"The papers made it look that way, but that was mostly that Skeeter women." Harry turned back to Neville. "So where did Neville end up?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. "I'm guessing Gryffindor?" He looked at Neville's returning grin. "I guess not? Is he in Hufflepuff? I know he really didn't want to end up there. Don't know why though."

Neville laughed, shaking his head. "Wrong again!"

"Hang on... Ravenclaw? Your not kidding?" Harry stared at Neville's laughing face. "Really?" Harry paused for a moment, considering. "Actually, I guess that actually makes a kind of sense."

"Seriously?" Neville's face looked very sceptical.

"Really Neville," said Harry grinning. "It makes sense. Goyle told me yesterday that he didn't want to be seen as stupid any more. The sorting hat probably put him in Ravenclaw to improve his chances."

"How does that improve his chances?" Neville clearly couldn't see the logic behind this idea.

"Well think about it," Harry reasoned. "He'll be a year older than his class mates, taking subjects he's already taken once. He's always had trouble with his reading, so he's going into a house full of people who can help him. Goyle might not be book smart, but he knows how to deal with people like Malfoy. I think he'll do fine."

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Goyle did in fact do fine in Ravenclaw. However, he did manage to get in trouble for breaking the nose of a third year called Cho Chang. He received a week's worth of detentions with Professor Flitwick and at the end of that Cho found herself in detention as well. Apparently she'd picked on a little girl everyone called Loony Lovegood and he'd caught her at it. No-one was certain whether to like Goyle after that, but he did make himself some friends amongst the more unusual first years.

Unfortunately, the Defence professor was a joke. Gilderoy Lockhart was some sort of wizarding celebrity. Harry had been a little worried when he'd seen the book list for Hogwarts seemed to be mostly made up of a series of travel books. He'd read though them before arriving and found nothing credible or likely. Gornuk had even warned Harry about Lockhart before he'd arrived.

"The man's a fraud, anyone can see it Harry," he'd said over pea soup at the Leaky Cauldron. "Thing is though, he's not an absolute fool. He might come off as a fop, but I looked up his school records. Apparently he has some decent charm skills and he was mentioned as having a little skill with spellcrafting, though he never worked at it enough. He was even on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team for a while."

"So, why is he a fraud?" Harry had asked, staring at Gornuk's soup, which bubbled menacingly.

"Nothing in his books is accurate. Nothing." Gornuk pushed his bowl a safe distance away, before leaning over the table and whispering. "Lockhart has Veela ancestry, not that he would want anyone to know that. It makes him very charming to women, a large part of his target audience. Keep your wits about you around him Harry."

Gilderoy had started off their first lesson by releasing a swarm of cornish pixies before immobilising them with a flick of his wand. Though visually impressive, it was nothing complicated or even difficult, which Harry knew from his other Defence texts. The rest of the lessons had simply involved Harry being dragged up in from of the class and forced to act out scenes from Lockhart's various books. Hermione still seemed enamoured with him, but Harry, Ron and Neville thought he was useless.

Other than that, life went on as usual with a few changes. Neville's new wand seemed have genuinely improved his spellcasting, although McGonagall still felt his tranfiguration was a little sloppy. However, his new found confidence was obvious and he was in the top quarter of most of his classes and climbing rapidly.

Harry had also added Sirius to his list of correspondence, regularly sending him letters. It felt wrong not to, considering how the man probably thought of him as family. Sirius revealed himself to be a playful, but strangely immature man. Sometimes he came across as incredibly wise, then the next line would come off as so mindlessly childish Harry was left wondering how it could be the same person writing. Monall and Shiel, a flirty young goblin lady, who he'd brought along in a pair of small portraits had given him a decent explanation.

"He's had to grow up fast Harry," pointed out Monall. "Prison is a hard place, especially Azkaban. Those bloody dementors." He shivered. Shiell, his Gobbledegook tutor, piped up before Harry could cut in.

"You've also got remember Harry, he hasn't had a chance to grow as a person amongst others. He's caught halfway between adult and teenage boy. Still manages to be pretty dreamy though." Monall had groaned at this, his face in his hands. Harry had shown Shiel Sirius' picture in the Daily Prophet and she'd been bemoaning the fact that she couldn't enter photographs ever since.

"Basically Harry," cut in Monall, before Shiel could continue. "You should be careful with the man, but even so, give him a chance okay? He might prove to be alright." Harry nodded and went back to Shiel's lesson from the privacy of his four poster. He was certainly glad of privacy charms.

HPHPHP

Quirrell and Rita were sitting in a park, ignoring the muggles who couldn't see them. Rita was counting down on her fingers, as if waiting for something to happen. Apparently she had a back up contact in the auror office, an older man who had a disappointing career and was happy to take bribes for money. Hopefully the analysis of Rita's flat would shed some light on their attackers.

"Well?" asked Quirrell, getting nervous. The park was very open, inviting plenty of opportunities for attacks. He hadn't been happy with the idea of Rita coming here on her own and wanted them to leave as quickly as possible.

"He's sent it," said Rita, standing and scooping a red metal tube into her handbag. "Let's go." Quirrell stood and turned to follow, but stopped stock still, listening for something. "Quirry?"

"Act likes nothings wrong and follow my instructions Rita," said Quirrell quietly. "I just felt someone put up anti-apparation wards. They aren't tied to any runes, so it won't take too long to break through, but they're here to slow us down, okay? Be ready." Quirrell watched Rita give a slight nod, while palming her wand.

"Dawlish sold us out," she ground out, furious.

"Or someone's been watching your routine. Do you recognise the muggle wearing the human bear T-shirt?" Quirrell had noticed him stand up and start walking a little while ago and something about his gait felt familiar.

"The one with the beard?" Rita asked, taking a quick glance before returning to eyes front. "Yes, I do. I saw him a couple of days before the attack, wearing a shirt with a green goblin design. Do you think he's one of them?"

"Maybe." They'd reached the road, a busy street with plenty of traffic, close to the edge of the wards. Quirrell tightened its grip on his wand and spun. Beardy T-shirt man's eyes widened behind his glasses and he went for something under his jacket, but Quirrell was faster, summoning the man off his feet and side stepping as he overshot, screaming in panic. Quirrell's eyes raked over the people in the park as he heard the shriek of breaks and a sickening crunch from the road.

It was lucky that Rita grabbed his hand and dragged him down behind a hedge, because he nearly lost his head to a cutting curse that came sailing from behind a fountain. In a flash, Rita transfigured the hedge into a thick stone wall, just as the pop of a pistol could be heard, showering them with chips of stone.

"Crap!" Quirrell slammed his back up against the wall, stunned. That had been too close.

"Focus on the wards!" yelled Rita, throwing a stream of minor hexes back at the fountain before diving back into cover.

"Right, right." Quirrell closed his eyes, probing the wards for weaknesses before smiling. They'd tied part of the wards to a street lamp just outside the park, using slight magical impurities in the paint. This would be easy. Quickly, he directed his wand at the pole and cast a paint stripping charm he never thought he'd need to use, watching the pole quickly brought up to gleaming metal. "Time to go!" he yelled, grabbing Rita by the arm. In a pop and a large blast of air they were gone, leaving the screams of panicking muggles in their wake. The man from the fountain swore before running the distance to the street.

"Ah shit," he said, looking distraught as he saw the pile up of cars. "Why did ya have to be so reckless George? Dammit George, don't you be dead now." He stepped past terrified muggles and crying children, coming to stand in front of a pool of blood and a mangled body. "George?" The man's voice was no louder than a whisper, but you could here his hope die with it. "I'm going to get that bastard and his little bitch too. I swear George, I'll get 'em for you." Then, with a crack, he vanished.


	35. Chapter 35: The Last Miller

**AN: Hogwarts is on record as being a multi-faith school and one of the ghost's is called the Fat Friar. I figure Hogwarts probably has a small chapel, with a village priest leading services for those who want them.**

**Disclaimer: We didn't start the series. It's been always going since Rowling wrote it.**

Vernon Dursley slowly stood up, grabbed his walking stick and made his way to the door. He'd finally managed to move on from the wheelchair with a heavy amount of potions. He hadn't been happy about that, but muggle medicine couldn't repair nervous tissue. Muttering, he made his way to the front door. He opened the door a crack. "Yes? How can I help you?"

"Hello Mr Vernon?" said the man on the doorstep. "I'm Mr Black, Harry's godfather." Vernon assessed the man. He wore a neat, three piece suit in a dark charcoal. It was almost normal, nut something about the cut put Vernon in mind of the robes those freaks wore. His dark hair was long, nearly shoulder length and he had a thick neat beard. That gremlin Gornuk had warned Vernon about this man. He'd made it very clear to not give Mr Black anything that could be used against him or Harry.

"What can I do for you?" he asked shortly, glaring at the man.

"I was wondering whether I could come in?" Mr Black asked politely. "I wished to ensure my godson's living conditions were adequate."

"Of course they're bloody well adequate!" snarled Vernon. "What are you suggesting?"

Mr Black held up his hands in placation. "I'm just doing my duty as a godfather. I'm not trying to imply anything Mr Dursley. May I come in?" This all came in a gentle, jovial tone, but there was a slight coldness in his eyes that made Vernon stiffen.

"Sure," he said carefully, removing the chain and opening the wire door. "Come on in."

"Thank you." The man stepped inside, looking around curiously. "Nice place. So, where does Harry sleep?"

Vernon slowly breathed out and reminded himself that this obnoxious man could turn him into a pig if he wanted. "His room's just at the top of the stairs. It doesn't have many of his things though, since he doesn't spend much time here. He's usually happier carrying it with him to school. Even when he is home from school, he prefers to spend his time with his own kind." That was the lie Gornuk had thought would work best and he was going to stick to it. They'd set up a room that looked occasionally lived in, populated with a few things from Dudley's old room. It would pass muster if anyone came calling.

Mr Black leant against the wall, his arms crossed. "Don't you worry about his wealthfare?" Black was obviously waiting for him to make a mistake.

"No, I don't. The boy's responsible." Vernon had always known this, though he'd never wanted to admit it.

"So you're leaving him to fend for himself?" A loaded question if ever there was one.

"Harry values his independence," countered Vernon, his face reddening in anger and embarrassment. "He prefers to do things for himself, more so since he started going to that ruddy school of his." Vernon hadn't actually seen the boy since Petunia and Dudley's funeral, so he supposed that was true after a sense. The boy lived in his magic basement and never bothered him for anything.

"Huh." Mr Black gave Vernon an odd look, stretching his back. "You aren't fond of Harry, are you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Vernon felt very flustered. He hadn't expected this.

"You hate him don't you?" asked Sirius, grinning evilly, a vindictive gleam in his eyes. "You remind me of my mother. There's something in the eyes, a certain hostility, a cruelty you can't deny. It's part of your character."

Vernon stared open mouthed at Sirius. "Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. What I don't get is why you haven't dumped Harry on me the first chance you got?"

Vernon stood, thinking carefully for a moment. Should he tell Mr Black the truth? That the short little bastard was blackmailing him? Suddenly, words popped out of his mouth. "He's all I have left of Petunia." Vernon blinked in surprise at his own words. Was that true?

"Really? I thought you hated magic. Lily used to talk about you and Petunia, how you refused to let her visit or even talk to her."

Vernon felt stumped for a moment. He did hate magic, it was true. That freakishness was what had taken away everything from him. What he suddenly realised was that he couldn't hate Harry. Not any more. He'd hated Harry for his magic, but he needed the boy in some way to keep him sane, so he still felt connected to something. Carefully, he framed his answer."I only hate his magic. I don't really have a problem with him provided he keeps that stuff to himself. Frankly I don't want to see him much, but knowing he's okay somewhere is comforting. Now, why don't you check his room to ensure his welfare and then get the hell out?"

Sirius stared at him for a moment, considering. "Would you be happy to grant me custody, Mr Vernon? You said you didn't care where he was, only that he was okay. Harry would be more than okay with me. I'm very wealthy. I'm sure I could make it worth your while."

Vernon stared at the man. He couldn't believe it. Another freak wanted to buy Harry's safety. At least this one wasn't trying to threaten him yet. He suddenly found his voice. "No, no, you couldn't. I'm fine with my life and Harry's fine with his. Now get out of my house."

Sirius looked unhappy with the result of the conversation. "Very well, Mr Dursley. I'll be in touch."

HPHPHP

Miller was following the bastard and his bitch as they apparated from place to place, trying to throw him off their trail. They wouldn't get away using that old trick. Miller had always been good at tracking magic. There was the line of magic, floating in the air before him, leading him to their next location

He apparated again and quickly scanned the area. He was under a bridge, somewhere in London. Damn. Populated areas made, with even the slight magical signatures of every muggle walking around were always difficult to track in. He just had to hope they hadn't gone far. Miller started stepping out of the shadows, gazing around, slightly dazed by the light. So, where was he exactly?

Before he could realise what was happening, he felt an arm slip around his neck and tighten. Miller panicked, not bothering with his wand as he attempted to wrench free. He quickly felt one arm trapped and his view blackening. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think and he soon found he couldn't fight. With one last attempt at throwing his attacker off, he threw himself forwards. The arm around his neck came loose and a man's voice swore. Unfortunately, Miller couldn't keep his footing and fell face first into a pole with a thud. He groaned, spitting out teeth and shakily attempting to stand, only to find a hand grabbing him by the hair. Next thing he knew, his head slammed back onto the concrete. He groaned and found his head raised, them brought down again with a crunch. It was too much for his body to take. Miller passed out.

HPHPHP

Miller blinked at the light, wincing in pain. His head felt so foggy.

"What is your name?" A voice floated through the haze, compelling, mystical. It called out to him to answer, divulge his secrets

"Harold Millers." It felt so good to tell the voice, acknowledge its beauty with words

"Why were you after us?" After who? Oh of course. Quirrell and Skeeter. He could see them now, silhouetted by the light. Miller suddenly realised what was going on and came to his senses. They'd captured him. They weren't torturing him, so they must have dosed him with Veritaserum.

"Because we thought Rita knew the killer from St Mungo's," replied his unwilling lips.

"That's the only reason? You don't know who I am?" Quirrell leant forward and Miller stared into his eyes hatefully.

"The only reason. I only know you're fu-" He felt a fist connect with his jaw.

"Shut your filhty mouth! Why did you kill the others, those Death Eaters?" Quirrell was enraged, Miller knew. He also knew that telling the man the truth would get so many people killed, people like Mum and Dad, people like little Cassie who hadn't even done anything. People like a goblin looking out for the closest thing to a son he had. Miller couldn't let that happen. So he did the only thing he could do and bit down on his tongue. His mouth flooded with pain and the taste of iron and he screamed.

"Damn you!" He saw the fist coming, then it crashed into his face again and again. Quirrell stepped away, panting, before straightening his robes and composing himself. "Wouldn't have thought he could do that. Well, Rita, he's all yours." Miller heard the sound of a door slamming and stared around wildly before a cold voice caught his attention.

"You took so much from me Miller," said Rita shakily, stepping towards him. "My pride, whatever shred of innocence I still had and worst of all my ability to feel safe." He looked up into her eyes and saw that they were filled with tears. "The others only wanted information but you..." She stopped speaking, looking away to compose yourself before drawing her wand. "I'm glad you didn't die like the others Harold. You've taken something from me, something I can't take back. Let me return the favour."


	36. Chapter 36: The Chamber of Secrets

**AN: Sorry for the slow update. Network troubles.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my interpretation and that was probably inspired by someone else anyway. All hail JKR!**

Quirrell looked up from his paper, seeing a very shaky Rita walk in. "You okay?" he asked, seeing the look on her face.

"I never thought I could enjoy something like that," she said, sitting down heavily. "I mean, I know I've never been the best person in the world-"

"Don't you dare blame yourself Rita. It was an eye for an eye, nothing more." Quirrell sighed, running his hands over his turban, ensuring it was still in place. It had been a long night and the morning wasn't looking up."They know about us, Rita."

Her eyes widened. "What?" she said, her lip trembling. Quirrell winced. He knew this wasn't the time to tell her, but what choice did he have? "How do you know that?"

Quirrell sighed, passing her the paper. "You spent most of last night with Miller. When I woke this morning I snuck out to Diagon Alley and snagged a paper . Our faces made the front page. Apparently the assassins charmed a letter to be delivered to the Daily Prophet if they were killed. It implicates us in the torching of St Mungos. Add to that the fire fight in the park- well the public's already bought it and the Ministry has warrants out for our arrest."

Rita's face went white as she sat, processing this. "So, what are we going to do?" Her voice betrayed no emotion. "I'm assuming the flat is safe, or we wouldn't be here right now, would we?"

Quirrell nodded. "I rented it under a muggle name, so it'll be a while before the aurors make the connection. However, I still think we should get out of the country. We can't do much more here. I can't help get the dark lord out of my head until his... other part is finished with the diary carrier. He doesn't even need us to help him secure funds at his point."

"What about your... other needs?" asked Rita, concerned. "The dark lord still requires unicorn blood or he'll start feeding on you, right?"

Quirrell grimaced. "Yes, he does. I think we should head for Europe for the moment, maybe France or Germany. They have large forests which have entire reserves. We'll have to change our appearance however. The ministry will put the word out and there'll be people looking for us." Seeing the look on Rita's face, he reached for her hand. "We'll get through this Rita, I promise."

Rita's eyes met his. "I hope so, but somehow I think we're both going to die before the end of this."

"Don't say that," said Quirrell. "We'll be fine, I promise." But in his heart, Quirrell was no longer certain was the truth.

HPHPHP

Harry was having an odd day, to say the least. After the last few days of news articles about a mad teacher and reporter murder duo, he'd received a letter from his uncle of all things, warning him about Sirius Black. A letter from Vernon was unusual enough, but what he'd found oddest was the almost civil tone, something he would never have expected. He'd felt obliged to send a letter back thanking him and assuring him that he'd keep an eye on Sirius in case he was up to something. He wasn't certain if Vernon wanted one, but felt it prudent to send it anyway.

"Harry my boy," came a cry and Harry groaned, dropping his head and trying to get lost in the crowd, but it was no use. Coming towards him from down the corridor, was 'Professor' Lockhart. Lockhart's eyes reminded him of Uncle Vernon when he had a particularly profitable client in front of him. It was a sort of predatory glint that hid behind a veneer of charm which Harry had always known not to trust.

"Yes Professor?" Harry replied testily.

"Why don't you help me with my fan mail, my boy?" said Lockhart, easily parting the crowd, using a mixture of charisma and the occasional elbow. "I believe you should learn a little about handling your fame before it becomes to much for you. Fame is a fickle friend after all." He laughed loudly, his perfect teeth gleaming.

Harry shifted uneasily. "Thank you sir, but that won't be necessary. I've never had to worry about fan mail."

Lockhart slid closer, separating Harry from his friends. "Harry, Harry, Harry," he said smiling as he rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. This felt far too close, so Harry shrugged it off. "You have to understand just how much your fame can help you. Learning how to use it early will help you later in life."

Harry caught Hermione staring at Lockhart in adoration and winced. There was the famous Lockhart charm at work. "If its all the same Professor, I would rather be known for my own accomplishments than for something that happened to me as a baby."

Lockhart's smile developed a nasty edge to it. "But Harry, you could be great you know. All you have to do is embrace your fame. Fame is after all, a form of power and power makes everything else so much easier."

"... I have to go." Harry stepped back between Ron and Neville, grabbing them by the arms leading them away. "That guy gives me the creeps," he said as soon they were out of earshot.

"Oh honestly Harry," said Hermione waspishly. "His heart's in the right place. He just wants to ensure you're not overwhelmed when the time comes." Harry had the feeling Hermione was more susceptible to Lockhart's charm than most of the others, since despite the contradictions in his books, she still believed the fraud. Harry had done a head count and found that nearly all the girls where at least partly affected by Lockhart's charm, as well as a few of the boys. However, there seemed to be less interest amongst the first years and the teachers seemed entirely unaffected. Harry had a feeling that the teachers were in such close proximity to the man that his effect had entirely worn off, probably helped along by their contempt for his teaching abilities.

"I agree with Harry," angrily countered Ron. He'd always been annoyed by Hermione's worship of the peacock and lately had trouble hiding this. "He's a slimy git. He wants to ride on Harry's coat tails, I just know it."

Harry, Neville and the rest of the crowd came to a dead stop, ignoring Hermione and Ron's tirades. "Er... guys?" Neville jerked his elbow into Ron's side.

"What?" said Ron , spinning to face Neville, before his eyes caught sight of the writing on the wall of the hall.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

"What's that... bloody hell!" Ron stared down in horror at the floor of the hall. Lying, surrounded by an expanding pool of water, was Argus Filch, the old, crotchety caretaker. With his eyes wide open and his rigid form, Harry thought it must have been some kind of paralysis curse, but he'd never seen anything like that before. It took a moment before he noticed the other detail. Mrs Norris, Filch's despised cat was lying, her limp form a counterpoint to her owner's.

"Everybody stay back," called Lockhart, striding through the crowd of students. "You, go fetch the other professors. Tell them Argus Filch has been attacked and appears to be paralysed." Lockhart casually kicked Mrs Norris out of the way and leant down to look into the man's eyes.

"Will he be okay Professor?" asked Ginny Weasley in a small voice, looking sick.

"Never fear Miss Weasley," said Lockhart, puffing out his chest and sweeping his baby blue cloak behind him. "You have nothing to fear. I'll ensure this matter is soon dealt with." Harry gave Neville a sidelong look. Something felt wrong here. What was the Chamber of Secrets and who the hell was the heir? And what in Merlin's name made Argus Filch, the unpleasant and vindictive caretaker, his enemy?

"Everything is under control." Everyone started at the sound of Dumbledore's loud, commanding voice and turned to find the man himself marching down the corridor flanked by the other professors and a Slytherin prefect. " All prefects, please take your house members to their dormitories. The professors and I will scout the school for any clues to this attack. Please leave, now."

Harry walked away following Percy, his mind spinning. It looked like Gornuk was right about Hogwarts. The place was looking more and more like a death trap. Maybe he should have considered switching schools after all. He'd have to wait until next year however.

"Ever feel like we're going to the wrong school?" asked Harry, looking at his friends.

Ron looked at him funnily. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Don't you think it's a little dangerous? I mean last year there's a troll and this year a man's been cursed. Doesn't that seem odd to you?" Only Hermione seemed to agree from the looks on the others' faces. Harry sighed. Wizardkind were scarily accepting of danger, something that probably had to do with them all carrying a lethal weapon in their trousers. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

Hermione gave him a funny look and Harry shrugged. He'd have to talk to her later and see what she thought about all this. Maybe she could find out something about the Chamber of Secrets before he contacted Gornuk. And maybe Vernon. Vernon knew about cons and it probably would help getting his opinion on Lockhart. He wasn't certain how a letter would go across, but he had the horrible feeling he was going to need all the help he could get. Again.


	37. Chapter 37: The Dueling Club

**AN: I hadn't originally planned to do this scene, but decided 'why not'. Also, there are still mandrakes growing in herbology. I'll put it in the rewrite, or maybe my beta might add it.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but 'Hlifskera'. You'll know it when you see it.**

Hermione had eventually been eventually forced to ask Binns about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. It all sounded very unlikely in all honesty. An heir of Slytherin, a secret chamber and a monster to kill muggleborns. It sounded like something from the magical version of a James Bond film. He'd sent his concerns off to Gornuk, who had alarmed him with the records of the last supposed opening of the chamber by none other than Rubeus Hagrid.

Apparently the incident had led to the death of a girl, but there had never been enough evidence for a conviction. Hagrid had a pet monster of some sort, according to the testimony of Tom Riddle, a Slytherin prefect. That put Harry on edge, since Gornuk had found no sign that Hagrid had actually been related to Slytherin. There wasn't any evidence his monster, possibly a spider, could cause petrification or instant death.

Tom Riddle however, was an enigma, disappearing soon after leaving Hogwarts. He was probably a halfblood, given the muggle name but still being allowed into Slytherin, which meant Gornuk would have to find out who his mother was. Gornuk mentioned he would message Dumbledore to find out anything else and promised to keep Harry's name out of it.

Harry then followed up with a letter to Vernon, voicing his concerns about Gilderoy Lockhart. Gornuk had wanted him to keep his head down around the man, but Harry had a feeling Lockhart wasn't about to let him. Harry had waited for several weeks before a reply, conspicuous on paper instead of parchment arrived, carried by a very irritated Hedwig. It was again surprisingly polite, though he did sound a little irritated at Harry's thorough description of Lockhart. The man clearly still despised magic. Unlike Gornuk however,Vernon believed Harry should work to get rid of Lockhart if he could.

Lockhart had probably stolen credit from others, judging the supposed discrepancies in his books. The only thing was that no-one had come forward, which Vernon felt was ominous. He'd asked 'that Remus fellow' for ideas and heard about some sort of mind wiping charm. Vernon warned Harry that the man could look at him as his next meal ticket and use all kind of freakishness to control him. Harry had felt oddly touched reading this, before going over Vernon's ideas for getting rid of Lockhart.

One was look at finding a way to discredit him in public, perhaps in a situation he knew would Lockhart would fail in. Two was to confirm what 'freakishness' the man was actually good at, since the man clearly had a way to cover up his fraud. The third was to find a way to reveal the root cause of Lockhart's charm to 'the girls' since it clouded their opinions of the man. Harry thought the wording sounded a little sexist, especially since female part-Veelas had similar effects on men, but had to agree.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn't certain how he could do any of this. He didn't want to come off looking like a spoilt brat or vindictive ass. He also knew the persecution part-Veela faced and frankly didn't want to contribute to it. Gornuk would have a fit for one thing. So he decided to sit and wait. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait for long.

HPHPHP

The four had been genuinely excited at news of a duelling club. Harry had been practicing some of the shields Monall had taught him, along with a range of different distraction spells. He had a feeling it would be better not to use them in public, but the experience had left him itching to try duelling. Ginny Weasley had also seemed very excited, something Ron found a little frightening. Harry remembered stories of the Bat-Bogie Hex well and had quietly added it to his list of distraction techqniques. It had to be hard to fight with winged rodents coming out of your nose.

The four, alongside Ginny and the twins, arrived in the Great Hall along with students from every house. Apparently the attack on Filch had scared a lot of people and everyone wanted to learn a little self defence. Personally, Harry thought that if there was a monster running around the castle, duelling wasn't going to do much good but decided not to say anything. It might just be student with a few nasty curses memorised though, so better safe than sorry.

The moment he saw who was leading the club, he groaned. There was Gilderoy Lockhart, in some foppish Renaissance inspired duelling outfit which frankly would only have looked good on Monall because he wore it when it was contemporary. Harry turned to leave, but heard a voice call his name. "Harry! Leaving so soon? Come, come, we can't have that!" Harry felt his arm grabbed by the man and found himself dragged in front of everyone in the hall. "Welcome one and all to the Duelling Club! Professor Dumbledore has kindly allowed me to train you all up a bit, considering these dark times." Harry tried to pull away during all the clapping, but Lockhart had a vice-like grip on his arm. He looked around to find Snape looking on in amusement. "Now, please give a big round of applause for Harry Potter, my assistant."

Harry wanted to crawl up into a ball in shame. He didn't want to be Lockhart's assistant and he certainly didn't want to be in front of all these people. "Please sir-"

"Mr Potter is going to help me demonstrate the correct use of the Disarming Charm!" Lockhart continued his speech, either ignoring or not hearing Harry's protest and forcing Harry to stand opposite him. "Now Harry," he said, grinning condescendingly. "The first thing you want to do is bow to your opponent. It implies respect." Well, Harry definitely wasn't bowing then. "After that you assume a duelling stance and on the count of three we each cast our spells, to disarm only. Any questions."

Harry thought about telling Lockhart he hadn't told him the spell, but opted not to bother and shook his head. Lockhart looked a little put out when Harry barely nodded to his fancy bow, but started the count down none the less.

"On three. One, two, three! Expelliarmus!" Lockhart fired off a beam of red light, that Harry easily ducked. The man's aim was terrible. "Excellent use of a dodge Harry! Of course, if I'd wanted to disarm you, it would have been all too easy." Somehow Harry doubted that, but opted to say nothing.

"Now Harry, I want you to try blocking it so everyone can see how to prevent hostile spells," said Lockhart smoothly. "The incantation I want you to use is 'Protego'. Got that?" Harry nodded stiffly. "Good. On three. One, two, three! Expelliarmus!"

Harry had been practising the basic shielding charm for weeks before this and so as he saw the red light moving towards him he quickly whispered the spell, conjuring a shield that absorbed it easily. There was another round of applause and Harry was forced to listen to Lockhart prattle on about how well he was doing. Harry caught Snape looking at him out of the corner of his eye and gave him a pleading look. Snape snorted. Actually snorted. Of course, no-one but Harry was paying him attention, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened.

"Harry?" Lockhart's voice called impatiently and Harry snapped his head around.

"Yes Professor?"

"Come now Harry!" cried out Lockhart in mock exasperation. "In a real duel you would be dead by now! Anything could happen- including this!" Lockhart gave a fancy flourish with his wand and yelled "Serpensortia!" at the top of his lungs. Harry stared in horror as a very small snake plopped onto the floor in front of him. He remembered this one from his time in the reptile house at the zoo. He couldn't remember its name, but it was incredibly poisonous. Harry slowly backed away.

"Relax Harry!" cried a jovial Lockhart. "Just keeping you on your toes. I'll get rid of it!" Whatever spell Lockhart cast next did not get rid of the snake however, instead sending it flying up into the air, hissing madly. The snake landed hard and rushed its presumed attacker. Unfortunately, that happened to be Harry. As it struck out, Harry cast the only shield he knew that could stop a physical object.

"Hlifskera!" Harry growled out the Old Norse spell and made the accompanying hand gestures just in time for a bronze shield sprung into existence just in front of the snake. The shield looked odd compared to the usual charm. Concave instead of convex, the edges appeared thicker than the centre and it hummed unstably. Then the snake hit the barrier and the entire shield began to collapse around it. The outer edges quickly snapped shut and the entire thing constricted into a small ball. There was the sound of painful crunching, then the shield evaporated, showering Harry and several students near him with red paste.

Harry didn't even feel the eyes of the entire room on him. He was too busy staring murderously at Lockhart, whose face had gone pale. "What the hell!" yelled Harry furiously. "Are you trying to kill me? Do you even know how poisonous that thing was?"

Lockhart stepped back, finally finding his voice. "Now Harry do calm-" Lockhart's placations were cut short as Harry's fragile temper snapped and he fired a volley of hexes at the man. Lockhart tried to bring his wand up, but was too slow and was hit by all but two of the spells. He keeled over, his knees reversed. The entire room was deathly quiet, watching as Lockhart's hair fell out, the skin on his face erupted into boils and his tongue became massively engorged, covered in horny protrusions.

"Mr Potter!" barked Snape. "Ten points from Gryffindor for excessive use of force! You two!" he snapped gesturing to two Ravenclaw girls standing close to Lockhart. "Take the professor to the hospital wing. Everyone else to their common rooms. Potter!" Harry snapped to attention. "Come with me."

HPHPHP


	38. Chapter 38: The Beast Strikes Again

**AN: Gornuk is an older goblin working part time who never had children. He's actually not representing Gringotts at all and the other goblins probably think he's going a bit weird. Sorry for any confusion**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.**

Harry found himself following Snape down a hall and into an abandoned classroom, his anger leaving him to replaced by shaking and a cold sweat. He'd almost died to a man's stupidity. Harry began to feel sick as he was grabbed by the arm and forced down into a chair.

"What did you do, Potter?" asked Snape, a furious scowl. Harry looked at the professor with glazed eyes. Do? What did he do? There'd been a snake he'd stopped and he'd hit Lockhart with something. Which did Snape mean? "Well Potter? What was that spell that killed the snake?"

"Shield spell." Harry swallowed bile. "Old shield spell designed to break solid objects."

"Who taught it to you?" snarled Snape. Harry was losing focus, finding it hard to concentrate. Merlin he felt tired. Hlifskera was a hard spell for a teenager to perform. At least he hadn't died. Harry felt the bile rise in his throat again at the thought of that snake striking at him. "Potter?" Snape's voice cut through the haze, the man's foul face inches from Harry. He tried to focus on the professor's eyes but found he couldn't. Instead he threw up down the front of Snape's robes, then slid out of the chair and passed out.

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Snape sat stiffly in his chair in the staff room, glaring at Lockhart along with McGonagall and Flitwick. Lockhart, his knees back the right way around and his tongue no longer horned, squirmed uncomfortably. He'd been denied the return of his hair or the removal of the boils until Madam Pomfrey was certain Harry was fine. Lockhart couldn't be charged with anything that would stick, his lawyers would make sure of that, but Snape knew Albus had been looking for an excuse to put the man on probation.

"What spell did Harry use Severus?" came Flitwick's voice, filled with curiosity. Of course he'd want to know. Flitwick was a duelling champion. A spell that unusual would of course capture his interest.

"Apparently some kind of shielding charm," replied Snape, trying to sound disinterested. "Seems unlikely to me. The boy probably lied to get out of trouble."

Snape watched Flitwick's eyes widen in excitement. "A shielding spell you say? That sounds like one of the old Viking spells I've heard of. Their shields were generally designed to only take one hit before collapsing, but they would usually do so in some beneficial manner." Flitwick looked positively gleeful. "I wonder whether Harry would like some _proper_ duelling instruction." Snape felt amused at the slight jab at Lockhart, but only grunted disinterestedly.

Madam Pomfrey bustled in, glaring at Lockhart. "The boy's exhausted. He'll be out of it for the next few days if I'm not mistaken. I think he overdid the spell a fair bit. Had he not been panicked, I'm sure he would have been fine." The edge in Pomfrey's voice was clear,

"Indeed," said Dumbledore from behind Madam Pomfrey, closing the door behind them. "The actions you undertook were foolhardy and dangerous. Come Gilderoy. My office, now."

The staff room quietened down, watching as Gilderoy stood stiffly and followed the headmaster, not even bothering to ask about removing the last two hexes. As the door closed behind them, the tension in the room abated. Aurora Sinestra let out a sigh of relief, placing the paper she'd been hiding behind back on the table. "Thank god for that," she said, shaking herself. "I honestly thought you were going to hex him Poppy. Tea anyone?" Aurora ignored the look of outrage on Poppy's face as she busied herself with the kettle. Snape settled back into his chair. With any luck, Gilderoy would stay out of everyone's hair now and they could focus on finding this Chamber of Secrets. Snape just hoped that the Duelling Club would take the students minds of it, at least for the time being.

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Riddle snickered at Lockhart's embarrassment. Flattened by a little boy. Though it did make Tom wonder. What was so special about Potter? His host certainly never told him of the boy's potential. What he gleaned from his host was limited at best. It was far too concerned with its own insignificant life. However, he supposed the host was not entirely useless. Some things the host could do were very convenient.

Tom Riddle strode into the Chamber of Secrets, cursing his host's body. Humans were so frail, so weak. He longed for when he could finish consuming his host and have a body of his own again, a strong one, but this would take time. Time to brake his host's will, time to take everything he needed. However, that didn't mean he was going to lie idle.

"_Speak to me oh greatest of the Hogwart's four." _Riddle watched as the statue of his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, opened its mouth and his servant, the basalisk slithered out, hitting the floor of the chamber with a heavy thud. Slowly, her eyes closed, she turned her head to face him. _"Master?" _she asked, her tone submissive.

"_My faithful servant,"_ said Riddle, raising his hand to caress the skin of his monster, his slave. _"I have a task for you. We will purge the unworthy from this school. The squib was only the start. Before I leave this place, not a single blood traitor, half-breed or mudblood will be left. Come. I will guide you."_

"_Who shall we kill first?"_ asked the snake eagerly.

Tom smiled. _"I think we'll start small. Let's have some fun with this."_

"_Yes master." _The snake slithered over to the sewer pipe, sliding into the plumbing of Hogwarts, ready to hunt._"Let me rip them. Let me kill them. Kill. Kill. KILL! KIIILLLLL!"_ Tom winced. She was just as insane as he remembered her. She'd been trapped down here for centuries, so it wasn't a surprise, but it did mean her usefulness was limited. Tom hoped she'd hold it together long enough for him to complete his plans. He sighed and followed the snake out of the Chamber up a flight of stairs hidden in the entrance pipe. It wouldn't do to leave her unsupervised. Anything might happen.

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Colin Creevey, a muggleborn first year in love with his camera, walked away from the hospital wing. He'd tried to sneak into the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey was on her break, but the wards had been surprising... not to mention a little embarrassing. Colin supposed he should head back to Gryffindor Tower before he ran into Snape or something. It wasn't as bad now that Filch was around but... and that was really unkind. Colin knew he shouldn't think like that, but it had been hard to like the man, or his nasty cat.

Colin looked up as the sound reverberated through the hall. It was a sort of sliding sound, like a heavy weight being dragged across a stone surface by hand. Immediately Colin stiffened. He'd never really believed the Chamber of Secrets thing, especially since Harry said he hadn't, but now he didn't feel so confident. "Hello?"

A hissing sound filled the air and Colin slammed himself up against the wall, a hand clamped over his mouth to stop himself from screaming. What was that? The sliding sound grew closer and Colin looked around for a way out, only to find that all the doors seemed to have suddenly closed. The sliding sound was right on top of him now and so reluctantly, Colin turned to face the monster.

A gigantic snake rose above him like a tree trunk, dark and glistening with moisture. Colin stood very still. What was it waiting for? Had it not seen him? Did it need orders? Colin thought hard. His camera had a flash. He could blind the snake and escape. Plus he would have a picture for the professors. Colin quickly raised the camera to his eyes and clicked, for the first time coming face to face with a pair of large yellow eyes. Colin did not see the snake reel back from the flash and flee. Instead, he stood propped up against the wall, completely frozen.

"Oh my!" shouted Professor Lockhart, coming round the corner, his skin and hair restored. "Another attack! Someone, fetch the other professors! I'll secure the area." A fourth year girl, probably one of his fans, ran off, not noticing the gleam in her idol's eye. This looked like the makings of another book if he'd ever seen one.


	39. Chapter 39: The Breakout of Azkaban

**AN: Sorry, Real Life got in the way. Also, a bad case of writers block- I couldn't work out how to put my ideas of what happens next to paper. **

**I've replaced Chapters 1 and 2 because of this. They add a little colour to otherwise drab scenes I hated. If anyone wants the originals, I'll post them up as a separate story. I also plan to rework Chapter 3.**

**Disclaimer: Not female, not rich, so I can't be Rowling.**

Quirrell woke up, clutching his head. Voldermort was requiring nourishment and even while the parasite was unconscious he still felt its hunger and rage. Rita glanced over. "He's at it again, isn't he?" Quirrell nodded, groaning. "When are you going to head out?"

"Tonight." Quirrell ran his hand over his face. "Distract me. What was that crazy plan you said you'd tell me about?"

Rita grinned wickedly, reminding Quirrell of when she was planning something evil at Hogwarts. The kind of thing that destroyed friendships and through the school into chaos. "You know how we've been having to get our hands dirty pretty much constantly? I mean we've had to do things when we should have been in hiding, things that risk our exposure."

"What have you got planned Rita?" Quirrell asked nervously. "In case you don't remember most of our potential allies have fled England and the rest are in Azkaban. We've only just started building up cash reserves again and that's only because of the diary's victim. We can't afford to blow resources on crazy schemes."

"Well, as you said, we'll have money soon enough, but what about allies hmmm? You can't say we won't need them, can you?" Rita's smile was practically predatory. "We won't be able to find the ones who fled, but we do know where many of the loyalist are, don't we?"

Quirrell's eyes widened. "Oh no. No-no-no-no. Absolutely not. Breaking into Azkaban is suicide Rita and you know it. Even if we could get past the dementors, which I doubt, we'd still need to get past the wards. And believe me, there are a lot."

"Well, there's one ward I know they they haven't added yet." Rita smirked over her tea. "At least, not to anywhere bar Pettigrew's cell. Too expensive, my sources say. Still trying to find money in the budget. Now, do you want to here my plan or not?"

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Screams rang through the corridors of Azkaban, startling the inmates in the upper cells awake. Quirrell ignored them as he made his way up. That just meant Rita's part had worked and that the prisoners they didn't want were out. He glanced around the corner, checking quietly. No dementors, good, that meant they'd taken the bait. He quickly made his way down the corridor, coming to a stop in front of Mulciber's cell.

Mulciber looked at him groggily. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice sounding like it hadn't been used in years. Quirrell didn't answer, instead shattering the stone around the bars. That was a wonderful thing about security system. People always left blind spots which they hadn't thought of.

Quirrell threw a bag of wands to the man as he blew the manacles off his wrists. "Go. Find your fellows. Meet me at the south corner with the rest in fifteen minutes. Don't be late." He watched as the man groggily get to his feet and unsteadily rush past him before leaving for the south wall. He needed to have this set up before the dementors realised what was happening.

Reaching the weak point, Quirrell pulled his bag of his shoulder and tore it open, pulling out what appeared to be putty but what any muggle could tell was probably a plastic explosive. He'd had his work cut out getting this in Germany.

The specialist mixture he was pressing into the cracks in between the immense stone blocks had been designed by a wizard specifically to get around anti-explosive wards. Usually, these wards were used to prevent the use of firearms, but they'd been added to Hogwarts and Azkaban by the last decent minister before fudge to prevent more underhanded attacks. The sound of footsteps caused him turn around, surprised that they were already here.

"Where's Travers and Rookwood?" Quirrell was irritated. He had list of Death Eaters and they were already two low. The Lestranges, Antonin Dolohov and Mulciber stood before him, along with two other no-names and Rita, whose little bug form buzzed over to land on his shoulder.

"Dead," said Mulciber bluntly. "Killed themselves when they heard about those assassins. Now, who are you and what do you want?" The entire group stared at him with distrust, hands on their new wands.

"Quirinus Quirrell," he answered, pulling his hood back with a flourish and turning his back to them. He heard a gasp as they saw the back of his head and Bellatrix Lestrange moaned softly at seeng the face of her master. He suppressed a shudder and busied himself with the explosives. "And I'd recommend you all get back before this wall comes apart."

They all hit cover not a moment to soon, the wall exploding, splattering liquefied stone out into the stormy night and across the walls of the corridor. Quirrell stood, brushing quickly cooling stone from his robes and made his way to the hole. Pulling his wand out, he summoned the brooms he'd left hanging in the night air and turned to the assembled Death Eaters.

"Come with me. The dementors will be here soon." Quirrell quickly mounted his broom, pulling his hood up to protect Rita, who zipped inside. "Plus the entire building's going to come down a minute after I leave. Unless you want stay of course." Quirrell flew off into the night, smirking as he heard the swoosh of racing brooms following him. With some bodies between them and the law, he and Rita might just survive this.

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Dumbledore stared at the image of the ruins of Azkaban burning on the front of the Daily Prophet. This was disastrous. No-one knew of the number of dead or escaped convicts, but among the unaccounted were most of Voldermort's strongest supporters. The dementors were restless without victims to torment and a spawning ground. This might reduce their numbers, as the despair they personified dissipated, but how many would they harm before then? The ministry wouldn't be able to control them, that was for certain.

The Wizengamot was convening this afternoon, adding yet another drain on his time. Though he'd managed to keep the ministry out of it, he still was no closer to finding Tom's tool. The attacks were horrifying and Dumbledore knew it was a sign something dark was in the castle. Even Gornuk knew it. He'd sent him a letter inquiring after Tom Riddle, probably at the bequest of Harry. Dumbledore needed those two in the loop soon, or they'd continue to look at him as two-faced. There was only one good thing that would come of this. The horcrux was in the school. If they could find his servant, they could find his horcrux.

Dumbledore sighed before summoning the teachers to the staff room. He needed to work out how to comfort the students, determine who had relatives missing and organise everything for his absence. He knew that the Wizengamot wouldn't get anything over in a day. Severus and Minerva would have to organise the search for Tom's horcrux while he was gone. Not that he didn't trust the other staff, but he didn't need the person carrying the thing to hear about it. This was going to be a long day.


	40. Chapter 40: The Sound Of Progress

**AN: Real life certainly slows things down, doesn't it? Sorry for the gap guys. I got one of the ideas in this chapter from a story I think was called Luna's something. I can't remember much exactly, except that part of the idea came from it and that it was a Luna/Harry ship. I've simplified the idea down a bit however.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Gornuk stood, staring at the evil looking little cottage. "Well, at least the old man's giving us useful information these days. The real question is, how do we get at the horcrux?" He glanced at Remus, who was contemplating the Gaunt residence with a thoughtful look on his face. "Remus? You in there?"

The man shook his head and blinked. "Right, sorry. You want to know how we're going to get in right?" Gornuk nodded impatiently. "Well, we aren't going to start today. This is way past my skill level. I was actually thinking we could simply destroy one of the rune stones, but they've been booby trapped and I honestly wouldn't have the faintest idea on how to prevent them going off. Maybe you should talk to Madam Bones if you don't want to use any of Gringotts' people."

"Amelia's busy," said Gornuk tersely. "Poor girl's been run off her feet since the Azkaban Attack. I've barely seen her." He kicked at a clump of grass thoughtfully. "I'll see who I can wrangle for some extra money. Maybe that Weasley boy. He's talented and seems like he could use it." Gornuk pulled his coat tighter. "We should get out of here before someone sees us."

"Agreed." The two men disappeared in a pair of loud cracks. It was only the first move and though it was not a large one, it was a start. Now they really needed a middle and an ending.

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"Bellatrix is going to be a problem," said Quirrell, rubbing his eyes. "She still challenging you, Rita?"

"Yes, yes she is." Rita looked exhausted. Their latest hideout, an abandoned factory in East Germany was still cold and slightly damp, despite their best efforts. "I would have though the dark lord's instructions to listen to you would have curbed it, but I was wrong. Probably has something to do with that article I wrote about her family while she was in Azkaban. Wonder how she got her hands on it."

"She could just be a bitch." Quirrell grinned at her wryly, a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses appearing in his hand. "This wouldn't be the article questioning how closely related to Rodolphus she actually is, would it?"

Rita grinned sheepishly, a touch of her traditional wickedness appearing in her eyes. "It might have been. You know, I've never seen a man more whipped than Rodolphus. She's got that man on a tight leash, I'll give her that."

"Sounds a lot like someone else I know." Quirrell smirked at Rita, handing her a glass far too full.

"Oh do shut up," Rita said as she downed the glass in one gulp and quickly refilled it, ignoring the steam coming out of her ears. "So, we're still focusing on building up numbers for the time being? If that's the case, I think we should talk with the vampires and werewolves fairly soon. Both groups are persecuted through most of Europe. Might be best to keep my involvement quiet though. Wrote a series of nasty articles on both a couple of years back."

"I remember. Just true enough to poison people's minds against them. Who commissioned them?" Quirrell waved off Rita's mock glare. "Oh come now, we both know I don't mind. It just might prove relevant. We could even blackmail them with their connection to you. You know how the public can be."

"Oh, very well," laughed Rita, unable to maintain her glare in the face of Quirrell's ridiculous puppy dog eyes attempt. "Dolores Umbridge, senior under-secretary to the minister. She's a real nasty piece of work. Actually," Rita said, pausing for a moment, "She's a lot like Bellatrix, except she's obsessed with Fudge, not the dark lord and she's ugly as sin. I doubt she'd be quite as loyal to Fudge as Bellatrix would be to our master. I think she's actually more interested in his power than the man himself."

Quirrell whistled, clearly impressed. "Why Rita," he said, downing his glass and filling the room with steam. "I do believe we can work with that."

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The tension filling Hogwarts was palpable, permeating every year level and every house. Teachers were keeping a close eye on their students in light of Colin's petrification. Harry and Neville had talked a little and had the feeling this was increased by the paranoia of the world overall, with the threat of missing Death Eaters and the casual destruction of one of the most secure places in Wizarding Britain. They were being escorted between classes and all students found themselves forced to turn out their trunks for contraband, much to the sorrow of the Weasley twins and for entirely different reasons a few Ravenclaws, who were found with items belonging to Goyle and Luna.

Neville was becoming very withdrawn, which Harry could definitely understand. His parents' killers were missing, admittedly presumed killed by the ministry, but no-one really believed that. Harry didn't know what to say to Neville, so every time he tried to bring it up he just found himself sitting next to him in awkward silence. McGonagall saw this one time and pulled Harry aside after class.

"Mr Potter, I assume you know about Neville's parents and why they were in St Mungo's prior to their deaths." At Harry's dejected nod, McGonagall placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Neville's lucky to have you for a friend Harry. Don't worry if you can't find the words. I'm sure Neville understands that you're there for him."

"Yes Professor," Harry said, looking at the floor.

"Now go on," said McGonagall, moving back over to her desk and shooing him out the door. "You'll be late for Defence Against The Dark Arts."

Harry groaned. Defence was if anything, getting worse. Lockhart's self assuredness from being first responder to Colin's attack had made the man unbearable and extremely insensitive. "Such a shame I couldn't get there earlier. I know just the counter-curses that might have saved him. You have no need to fear, not to worry. Just stick by me and you'll be fine." Ron in particular was going spare watching Hermione's normal level headedness evaporate in the face of Lockhart's perfect teeth and wavy hair. Definitely the effects of Veela ancestry, though Harry was noticing a lot of it was actually practised charm designed to enhance his natural abilities and distract from his shortcomings. He wouldn't have minded if Lockhart was a decent teacher, but all Lockhart ever did was try and sell them the Lockhart Legend. Harry could cope with that but he wished it wouldn't send Ron into a jealous rage as he watched Hermione hang on Lockhart's every word and defend the man at every turn. Harry only hoped they'd make it the week before the next big blow out.

Surprisingly enough, Harry had been finding Snape infinitely more bearable. Not that the man had changed much, though he seemed less interested in hassling Harry and Neville. The man seemed extremely distracted in fact. Whatever the reason, Harry and his friends found their marks steadily climbing, which they were very pleased with. Ron still found himself in over his head however, since his knife skills were fairly poor. Harry found it funny that his years at the Dursley's were actually proving to be good for something.

He was still receiving letters from his uncle much to his surprise. They were always short, terse and never mentioned magic, but reasonably civil. Harry even found himself looking forwards to them a little, despite himself. Along with Gornuk, Remus, Sirius and the occasional letter from Ted Tonks he found himself writing a lot of letters, which had forced his penmanship to improve.

Sirius was a pleasant surprise, sending warm and open letters which made Harry feel guilty for distrusting the man so much. He did get the feeling however that Sirius was having to work on improving. He'd had a hard time in Azkaban and Remus had mentioned often having to rush over to Sirius's house to help him when he had one of his episodes. Remus had mentioned he'd the place so that he could keep a watchful eye on him.

Overall, Harry's personal life was calm and pleasant, with only a few minor bumps. Harry didn't think that would last though. What was that old muggle Chinese curse again? May you live in interesting times.

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Harry found himself standing in the headmaster's office in front of Gurnok, Dumbledore, Remus and a younger looking man introduced as Bill Weasley. Ron had mentioned his curse-breaking brother and Harry had to say, Bill looked cool. His hair was long, currently only at the base of his neck but clearly being grown out and his clothing definitely had a young muggle feeling to it. Why he was here however, Harry had no idea.

"Harry my boy," said Dumbledore kindly. "Please take a seat. Lemon drop?" Harry caught Gurnok's eye roll and hid a smile.

"No thanks Professor. Um, sir..." Harry looked at Gornuk again for support. "Why am I here? Has something happened?"

"Nothing happened Harry," said Gornuk. "Well, that isn't exactly the case,but nothing of the sort you're thinking of. Mr Weasley hear could explain far better than I could. Mr Weasley?"

Bill leant across the table to shake Harry's hand. "Ron's told me a lot about you. This is about your..." Bill seemed to struggle with the words for a moment, "horcrux problem. Don't worry, I've promised everyone here I won't tell a soul." Harry didn't doubt it. If he knew and he was here with the others, it was expected.

"Recently I was brought in to help out, with curse-breaking you know and I had a sudden thought. My dad, who I don't think you've met, is what you might call a muggle enthusiast. Collects all kinds of books on wiring and electricity, stuff like that. Anyway, he recently picked up a book on muggle map making and it gave me an idea for locating the other horcruxes. See, they're all connected to one another, so we should be able to get their general direction."

"Okay, that sounds good. So you need a horcrux, right?"

Bill nodded, grimacing. "Only there's a catch. It has to be you. You're a living horcrux, which means you can pick up on the emotions of the other pieces of V-Voldemort's soul. We've actually found one already, but since it's cold metal with no life to clean up the signal, all we get is what you might call static."

"Okay," said Harry, nodding. "So, we can find the things now right?"

"It's going to be a good deal more difficult than it sounds my boy," said Dumbledore ruefully. "It probably won't be pleasant or easy. If you don't want to-"

"I do," said Harry vehemently. "He and his servants have taken far too much from me. When do we start?" Harry inwardly beamed at the looks of pride on Gornuk and Remus' faces.


	41. Chapter 41: Power-shifts and Chickens

**AN: My computer is trying to kill itself. Sorry for the late update.**

**Disclaimer: I make no money and have no rights.**

Voldemort shifted restlessly in the haze of Quirrell's mind. He needed more unicorn blood and fast. They'd been three weeks in this damn factory and he'd barely got any nourishment. He needed his diary horcrux to consume its host soon. Quirrell was becoming stronger, not enough to throw him out, that'd kill him no matter how strong he became, but strong enough it was becoming impossible to compel him. To make things worse, Voldemort had felt weaker recently. He didn't know the cause for his increased lethargy, but it was terrifying.

And he couldn't leave. As much as he tried, he couldn't leave his host. Quirrell hadn't known that Voldemort had tried, only suffering from horrific nightmares and spasms that had terrified that Rita woman who shared the man's bed, but it was only a matter of time before he realised. He had the horrible feeling that when Quirrell did, he wouldn't be able to win a mental battle with him.

Voldemort couldn't work out what gave the man he'd thought so weak such strength. Quirrell had all sorts of pathetic little drives and ambitions hooked into that woman of his, but Voldermort couldn't believe such pointless feelings could give the man any sort of advantage over him. Could they?

"Ah, I see you're awake."Quirrell's voice was low and dripping with sarcasm, shocking Voldemort with his musings.

"I've told you not to disturb me, servant," he snapped angrily.

"Considering the fact you were disturbing me, I think its fair." Voldemort felt a cold chill run down his... spine? It was what it felt like. He hadn't felt that since he'd looked into Albus's eyes, all those years ago. "Oh come now Tom, did you really think you were being quiet? I've been listening since that little attempt on my life. Try that again... and well, that new body of yours might find itself a collection of parts, understand? Now be a good boy and go to sleep."

Voldemort fell into a stunned and horrified silence. What the _fuck_ had just happened to him? How had lost all his power over the man? Rita? No. A woman couldn't have caused all this. Voldemort was certain... oh Merlin. His horcruxes. He needed to know they were safe. He-

Voldemort cried out in pain. "I said _go to sleep Tom_. Don't make me say it again." Quirrell's voice was full of malice and spite as he pushed harder against Voldemort's conciousness. "You made your bed. Now lay in it."

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"Two horcruxes down so far." Gornuk poured Amelia a shot. "And your aurors have the dementor problem well under control. I think that calls for a drink."

"Okay, so you found the ring in the Gaunt Shack and the diadem in this 'Come and Go Room'. Any other leads? Did you find who carried the Hogwarts horcrux?" Amelia's frown deepened as Gornuk shook his head.

"No luck so far. Dumbledore did mention that if the horcrux was feeding off a person would make it harder to track though. It's probably why Voldemort hasn't tried to attack Harry through his horcrux yet and probably hasn't realised its presence. Now don't worry-" he started, seeing the look on her face. "We haven't seen any evidence to suggest there's another one at Hogwarts. There have been no more attacks or any signs of unusual behaviour, so we seem to be in the clear."

Amelia relaxed a little, but looked unconvinced. "Alright, I'll drop it. Why would it make the horcrux harder to track?"

"Now, this is all in layman's terms, so I'm not certain I've got this entirely right, understand?" warned Gornuk. "From what Dumbledore said, the soul of the victim or host would block the signal. Kind of like using a heat detecting spell to find a man in a burning building. We're lucky we've even found one at all. Hogwarts is saturated with a ton of magic and then there's the ghosts."

"Fine. Did Harry pick up any leads outside of Hogwarts?"

Gornuk shook his head. "We don't want to push Harry too hard yet. It takes a lot out of him. He's had to learn the basics of occlumency just to cope and we've only just started. I think it hurts him more than he lets on." A small sad smile flickered across his face. "I think I heard him swearing in Gobbledegook recently. He didn't tell me he'd been learning it. Probably got a portrait to teach him or something."

"Sounds like someone's trying to impress you Gornuk," said Amelia, smiling into her glass. "He really loves you, doesn't he?" Her smile widened as Gornuk look flustered. "I think it's good he has someone to look up to Willan. He was without a father figure for far too long."

Gornuk decided a shift in topic was called for. "Do you know a trainee called Tonks? How is she doing?"

"Yes, I know her," said Amelia, clearly amused. "She's doing well. I thought she would of course. Clumsy though. Knocked over a shelf of Moody's newspaper clippings. He had the poor girl spend seven hours resorting and shelving the blasted things on her own. Why Moody keeps them I'll never know."

"Yes," Gornuk laughed. "Remus has mentioned accidents just like that, though he actually helps her put them to rights."

"What is Remus Lupin's relationship with Nymphadora Tonks? I know she works for him, but it seems to be more than just a work relationship."

Gornuk sighed. "They're in love Amelia," He poured himself another shot. "But of course Remus won't let anything happen, the fool. Doesn't think he's good enough for her or some such nonsense."

Amelia blinked in surprise . "You don't see the issues? Werewolves are hated. It'd make her life much more difficult. She's ambitious and she'd never get anywhere if she was with him. Frankly, I think he's being quite noble." She smiled slightly at the look of disgust on Gornuk's face. "Are all goblins like this?"

"No." Gornuk stood up from his chair, collecting his suit jacket. "In fact, most of my friends think I'm going funny in the head. Listen, I have to get back to the bank for a little bit. Will I see you on Friday?"

"Of course," said Amelia, standing, looking a little disappointed. "Nine o'clock at the Cauldron fine?"

"Definitely. See you Amelia." He could feel his smile take a guilty turn as he headed out the door.

"Later Willan."

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Harry ran from the Defence classroom before Lockhart could gain his attention. That man had become more and more persistent once he'd gotten over that little... accident in the duelling club. It was becoming a nightmare. He was always trying to get details of Harry's personal life, his friends, his habits... that night. Harry suspected that a tell all book would be quite the steal for the man.

"Alright Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Goyle walking up the corridor to the Defence classroom. "Just escaped from Lockhart. You?"

"I'm looking for Luna. She got up and walked out of potions. Something about nargles clouding the room. Made it dangerous since everyone was getting fuzzy-headed, she said. Snape was going to give her detention, but four cauldrons exploded. You haven't seen her have you?"

Harry shook his head. "Lockhart might have. He was out of class for an awfully long time, thank Merlin. She might have wandered past."

Goyle looked torn. "The guy's an creep. I think I'll look for her myself. Later Harry."

Harry waved goodbye and paid no mind to it until that night heading to dinner when the first rumours had started circling. "Hagrid," he called out as the man walked into the entrance hall. "What's going on?"

"Not now Harry," said the big man gruffly, roughly pushing past the students who'd stood up to take a look at the bundle in his arms and the dead rooster clutched in one hand. Harry's breath caight when he saw what it was. Luna Lovegood lay unconscious, dried blood caking one side of her face. "Poppy, got someone who needs yer attention. Found 'er in the forest next to this 'ere bird. Think we 'ave our bird killer."

Harry stared as Hagrid and Pomfrey disappeared down a side corridor to the hospital wing. Bird killer? From what he'd seen, Luna was odd, but she wasn't cruel. Making excuses to the other, he went to find Goyle. Maybe he knew more.

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Goyle was frantic, Harry could tell. He hadn't been let into the hospital wing yet and was pacing just outside the doors. "Luna wouldn't do that and even if she would, she wouldn't have had the time to kill them all. They've been dying all term and I'm always with her." He looked up at Harry sheepishly. "Well, nearly always anyway."

"Do you like her Goyle?" asked Harry, surprised.

"What?" Goyle looked shocked and a tad disgusted. "NO! She's my friend. Why would I?"

"Any idea what she might have been doing in the forest?"

"Visiting the thestrals, maybe." Goyle shook his head. "It would explain the chicken, but she usually goes to the kitchen for their food and we always go together. She should have been in the common room, unless she found someone interesting to follow."

Harry thought for a moment. Someone interesting? Would that include someone doing something unusual? Probably, from what he'd seen of Luna. He needed to talk to Dumbledore. He had a horrible feeling there was more going on than met the eye.


	42. Battle in the Chamber

**AN: Sorry about the late update, but I kind of got stuck. I had barely any idea where the story was going, so I reread my old chapters and along the way I've updated a lot of them, kind of as part of the process of writing this chapter. Don't worry, I haven't changed the plot around at all, apart from chapter three which has very little effect on story flow. It's more just added flesh to bare-bone chapters. Now, on with the story.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.**

Pain. There was nothing but pain and darkness. Harry's nose twitched at a pungent smell and he groaned, opening his eyes to find himself on a hard stone floor, lying with his face in a pool of his own vomit. For a moment he wondered what had happened before remembering. Harry and Goyle had gone looking for Dumbledore and run into Lockhart. Goyle said something which caused the man to panic and then there'd been pain and darkness.

"You awake yet Harry?"

Harry twitched his eyes to see Goyle, who had blood oozing down the side of his face, lying next to him. "What's going on Goyle? Why'd Lockhart attack us?"

"I don't know, but he's been coming and going all the time, bringing his bags with him. He'll be back in a bit and he'll hit you if you try anything, so if you hear something, lie back down, okay." Goyle's voice was barely above a whisper. "He took our wands, just so you know. The man's mad; he's been talking to this bloody book like its a person. I think he thinks its giving him instructions. Then every so often he goes all quiet and looks completely different, all calm and collected. I'm seriously freaking out Harry." Personally Harry thought Goyle was coping better than he was, but decided to say nothing. "What the hell do we do?"

Harry groaned as he stood up. Another horcrux was all he needed and nothing else sounded likely. He looked around the dark space, realising he wasn't in a cave as he'd first thought, but a dark, dank room. "Any idea where we are?" he asked, getting to his feet and looking around carefully.

"I think I might know," replied Goyle, sounding as if he dreaded saying it. "See that statue? That's Salazar Slytherin."

Harry glance over statue, seeing a gigantic statue of a monkeyish looking man with a long looking beard. "Funny, I always thought Slytherin would have been better looking than that," he said grinning wryly.

"Be serious Harry!" Goyle almost forgot his caution as he came close to yelling. "I think we're in the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. They were in the one place in Hogwarts where no-one could find them, that is if Goyle was right of course. He looked around, noting the snake statues. Goyle was definitely right. There was no way any of the other founders had a hand in making this place. "Ok, sorry. Bad coping mechanism. Where's the exit?" Harry asked this in a hushed voice.

"Over there, behind a massive locked door. I couldn't find a keyhole." Harry could now see that Goyle was indeed freaking out. The boy looked clammy in the greenish light coming from the walls and seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating. "What do we do Harry?" His voice came out high and crackly.

"Get a hold of yourself Goyle!" Harry said, grabbing him by the arm. "There's two of us and one of him! We'll hide and whack him when he comes back, okay?"

The bigger boy nodded, swallowing. "Okay." He stood up straighter, showing his full height and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Goyle seemed to be brave enough when you pointed out a simple, violence based solution to a problem. "So, how do we bring him down? I don't see anything we can hit him with."

"We could threaten him with this," said Harry, pulling out his heavy knife.

"Jesus." The big boy looked stunned at the very thought someone could carry around a knife this bg without once being noticed.

Harry did suppose it must have been pretty intimidating, with its broad blade and handle and guard covered in troll skin that appeared to be growing straight out of the metal. He glanced at the Ravenclaw curiously. "I didn't think you'd be a religious one Goyle."

"I'm not," replied the bigger boy, swallowing nervously, his eyes not leaving the blade. "But you're talking about stabbing someone Harry. I mean, that's kind of a big deal, don't you think?"

Harry beckoned Goyle over to one of the statues lining the causeway. "Hopefully it won't come to that." He ducked behind it, into a patch of shadow not destroyed by the eldritch light that permeated the room. "Come on Goyle, we have to hide."

Looking decidedly unhappy about all this, Goyle slid behind the snake statue next to Harry and dropping to his knees in the water. "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"Did I come down here with Hermione or something?"

"Shut up," snapped Goyle. "Of course you feel fine; you're the one holding the bloody ten inch knife."

Harry had been about to answer when they heard the creak of a massive door and fell silent, pressing themselves up against the snake statue and holding their breath.

"I'm sorry Tom, I know I shouldn't have panicked." Lockhart's voice lacked its customary charm and smugness, instead full of fear. "They knew, I'm sure of it. The big one asked about that Lovegood girl. What was I supposed to do?"

It was like only hearing half a conversation, as if he was on a phone thought Harry. He risked a quick peak around the statue. Lockhart had his eyes focused on the dairy that lay open in his hands which he appeared to be reading feverishly. "Yes, I know I shouldn't have attacked her either. I said I was sorry. You don't know how difficult all this is Tom. At least we might have pinned this all on her." Harry heard Goyle let out a low, animalistic growl.

"Well look on the bright side, Tom. You said you wanted to know more about the Potter boy." At the sound of his name Harry ducked back into the shadows, but Lockhart did not see him, instead continuing his conversation with 'Tom'. "We could question him before we obliviate them and leave. Kill? What do you mean kill? When you said you'd help me make more money you never said anything about killing."

Harry felt Goyle tense behind him, but held up his hand. Lockhart still had his nose in the diary and hadn't yet passed their hiding place and he wasn't certain he'd be able to rush Lockhart before he could get his wand out. He listened as Lockhart footsteps came closer and closer, until they stopped.

"They're gone," Lockhart said, his voice going high pitched. "No, I don't know where Tom!" Harry risked a peak. Lockhart had his back turned, staring into the dark around the entrance. He had dropped his last bag and had his wand out, sweeping it's lit tip from side to side as he scanned the chamber. This was his chance. Being careful not to make a sound, Harry slid from his hiding place and began slinking up behind the blonde wizard. He'd covered about half the distance when there was a sudden crack as something from one of Lockhart's open bags shattered under his foot.

Lockhart span round, eyes widening as he saw the knife in Harry's hand. "Now Harry-" Harry didn't wait for an answer as he made his move, running forward and punching Lockhart in the gut.

"Hello Professor," he said as he pressed the tip of his knife into the soft flesh under Lockhart's chin. "Care to explain why you wanted to kill us?" Harry knew why, the man was Voldemort's puppet, but thought the fear he saw in Lockhart's eyes would make it easier to control him. Unfortunately, this did not seem to be the case.

Lockhart's eyes flickered for a moment, then his entire face shifted, his expression going from cowering to cold in an instant. "Hello Harry Potter," said Lockhart in a voice unlike any he had heard before. "I've been dying to meet you."

"Tom Riddle?" Harry knew this wasn't Lockhart. It couldn't be. Tom was wearing Lockhart like a suit, one that didn't quite fit him.

"Yes, its not a perfect match, is it?" Voldemort's agreeable tone startled Harry, causing the knife to knick Lockhart under the chin. "I have to put him in a sort of trance, you see. Eventually I would have consumed him to create a new body, but the man certainly has a strong sense of self worth. I've been trying to kill him for nearly a year now and he's still hanging on." Tom's eyes were full of cruel laughter at the look of horror on Harry's face. "Do you know he actually thought I was helping him with his next book, _Beating the Basalisk_? I mean, really, who does he think he is?"

"What do you want Voldemort?" Harry's voice was shaking, his plan entirely forgotten. "Dead muggleborns? Is that all you care about? Purity and power?"

"Usually," replied the tranced Lockhart. "At the moment however, I'm more curious about you. How could a mere babe defeat the greatest wizard the world has ever seen?" Harry dragged up whatever mental shields he could as he felt _something _push against his mind and Lockhart's face scowled. "Damn this body!" Harry, still reeling from the mental attack was unready as Tom raised Lockhart's arm and fired a spell full into his chest, sending him skidding across the floor.

"Crucio!" Harry had been attempting to scramble to his feet but quickly found himself in the most pain he had ever felt. When the pain stopped he looked up, panting. Tom was scowling at the hand holding Lockhart's wand, like he was displeased and Harry realised his problem. Tom wasn't able to put enough energy into his spells since he was distracted by controlling Lockhart's body. He might still be able to take him, or at least get the diary off Lockhart.

Harry ran for cover behind another statue, hearing the whizz of a pair of stunners behind him. "Come back here boy!" yelled Tom enraged. "Do not defy the might of Lord Voldemort!" Harry felt vibrations through the statue as several spells impacted, throwing up small puffs of smoke and rock. Harry held his breath, waiting. Lockhart's lungs were already labouring from the effort and he doubted Tom could keep up even this rate of casting. Tom seemed to agree and began chanting something, his voice taking on a strange quality. _"Speak to me oh-"_

Harry rushed out of cover, charging straight at Tom, the knife in front of him. Tom looked startled and barely brought his wand up in time. "Expelliarmus!" Harry flew backwards, slamming into the statue he'd just been hiding behind, the wind knocked out of him. However, despite the pull he'd felt, his knife was still firmly in his hand, the troll skin tingling under his fingers. Harry started trying to get to his feet, using the statue to push himself up when he saw a dark shadow over him. _Wham!_

Harry fell to the ground, clutching the side of his head, the dagger clattering to the ground next to him. He couldn't see much through the blood trickling down his face and brought his hand up to wipe it away. "Its a pity I had to resort to such crude means to subdue you Potter," said Tom. Harry could just make him out leaning over him, reaching for the dagger. "And a greater pity I'll have to kill you with this. You've survived my spells in the past, but I wonder how you'll make do if I leave you looking like Nearly Headless Nick." Tom grabbed Harry by the front of his robes, dragging him to a standing position. "Goodbye Harry Potter," he said, smiling as he raised the dagger.

And that's when Harry saw it sticking out the belt of Lockhart's pants; his wand. He reached for it, pulling it free and brought it up just as Tom brought Harry's knife down. "Hlifskera!" The tip of the knife caught the shield dead in the centre and for a moment it held but then, before their eyes,the shield collapsed inwards, catching both the knife and Lockhart's hand. The knife was not crushed by the collapsing sphere, instead falling to the floor with a heavy clang but the hand was not so lucky. Lockhart cried out in pain and horror, seemingly coming to his senses, but Harry still scooped up his knife and backed away, pressing his back against the statue.

Lockhart made to take a step towards Harry,clutching the mangled mess of his hand to his chest, but instead crumpled to the floor as a rock connected with the back of his head, revealing Goyle standing behind him, shaking. "I'm so sorry Harry," he said, upset. "I just froze."

Harry sighed in relief, tucking his knife, somehow still clean, back into his robes. "That's okay Goyle, I get it. Just don't touch that book he has, okay? Its dangerous."

Goyle nodded before his face clouded with worry. "Harry are you okay. You're going green."

Harry groaned as he realised what was happening. "Oh crap. Shouldn't have used that spell again." He felt himself begin to sway and the last thing he saw before hitting the floor was Goyle rushing forwards to catch him.


	43. Another Aftermath

**AN: I should really write a chapter on goblin ethics and morality, shouldn't I?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Dumbledore strode through the school, flanked by the heads of house, Madame Pomfrey and Luna Lovegood, an eccentric first year with a wild imagination who claimed to know both the location of the Chamber of Secrets and the identity of the Heir. Coming to the door of the second-floor girls' bathroom, he turned and looked at her sternly. "Miss Lovegood,"he began. "I hope you understand the seriousness of you accusations. If we find no evidence of the Chamber or Professor Lockhart being the one who opened it, the consequences for you will be most severe. There are two students missing."

Luna looked at Dumbledore in the same airy expression she'd had when she told him that Lockhart had tried to memory charm her. "Okay." The little girl moved passed him, reaching for the door handle. "Just be quiet. Myrtle's easily upset and we need to ask her a few questions."

"Myrtle Pevinsey?"asked Dumbledore, alarmed. "The girl who died when the monster was last released?"

"Of course," replied Luna, giving him a funny look as she opened the door. "No-one ever asked her how she died when she came back so I did. She said there was a boy and a pair of big, yellow eyes by the sink. Didn't you know that?" Dumbledore had to admit he hadn't. Then again, he'd never had occasion to meet her. Once she'd arrived at Hogwarts, he'd rarely seen her since she never came out of her favoured haunting place. Ignoring his silence, Luna opened the door and stepped inside. "Hello Myrtle," she called. "I've brought some teachers with me. Do you mind?"

"What do they want?" Myrtle floated through the cubicle door, looking warily at the adults from behind her glasses. Her fringe hung over her eyes and it looked like she'd rather not have so many visitors.

"They want to know whether you've had any visitors recently," replied Luna, completely at ease with the ghost, despite her known tantrums.

"I'm not supposed to tell," Myrtle said bashfully, a blush spreading over her transparent cheeks.

"Tell what, Ms Pevinsey?"asked Dumbledore in a falsely curious voice. In truth, he was becoming very worried. What if the Luna girl was right? It was a massive oversight. As he saw her hesitation, he continued. "Do not worry my dear. I'm headmaster. I'm certain whoever told you to be quiet did not mean to keep you from helping me."

Myrtle seemed comforted by this. "Well the handsome professor has been coming and going through the secret door behind the sink with snake on the tap. He's been taking his bags down there." The look of horror on the teachers' faces was obvious, even to the socially inept ghost. Ï've done something wrong, haven't I?" she asked, tears filling her eyes.

"Not at all Myrtle," said Luna, diffusing the problem before it began. "Tell me, did he take anyone else down there?"

"Maybe," said the ghost, thinking about it. "I'd been crying, so the first time I saw him he was coming out of the door. I could have missed them."

"Tell me Miss Pevinsey, do you know how he opened the door?" asked Dumbledore hopefully.

"Oh no," replied the ghost, shaking her head. "He told me to put my fingers in my ears since it was a secret."

Dumbledore sighed, before turning to the heads of house. "Anyone got an idea on how to get it open?" His brow furrowed as the staff began to argue amongst themselves. This was not good. "Miss Lovegood,"he said, turning towards the peculiar blonde. "Might you have a way to get down."

"Of course," said the girl, taking her bag off her shoulder and tipping it over.

Dumbledore stared for a minute and gradually the teachers caught what he was looking at, falling into shocked silence. "Is that… dynamite?" said her head of house Flitwick, looking a little ill.

Luna nodded happily. "I asked Daddy to send it to me when I thought I found the chamber the first time, but I turned out to be wrong about it being in the staffroom." The little girl failed to notice the gasps and terrified expression. "It's been modified to work around the school wards," she continued as she rummaged around in the bottom of her bag. "Ah," she said happily, pulling a very long package out of the small messenger bag. "Here it is. You'll probably be needing this." She pressed it into Snape's hands.

"What is it?" he asked, looking at the package like it might bite him.

"An Arkham Army Regulation Elephant Rifle of course, silly," she said brightly. "How did you think you were going to kill the basilisk? If you don't think you can use it, go get Hagrid. I know he uses a crossbow when he's out in the forest." Luna looked at them expectantly. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go save my friend. And Harry Potter," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Right," said Dumbledore weakly, wishing he had somewhere dry to sit down. "Severus, would you mind bringing Hagrid up here?" The man nodded, carefully handed the gun to a very reluctant Minerva and practically ran from the room. Dumbledore turned to look at his staff. "Well," he said, trying to hide his nervousness. "I suppose we should get to work."

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"Willan?" Gornuk glanced up from his meal and found himself looking at a worried Amelia. "Do you ever feel guilty?"

"About what?" he asked, alarmed at her tone of voice.

"About the entire Miller incident?" Amelia picked at her food, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Honestly?" Gornuk leant back in his chair, thinking how to explain this best to her. "I feel guilty that I hired men so immoral that they would break my trust and not follow orders. That does torture me at night. If they'd been goblins, maybe they would have understood, but I was worried about my reputation."

Amelia looked at him sharply. "So you feel no guilt about planning to murder people? Just what their actions caused?"

"Of course not," he replied, a little affronted. "You should never feel guilty about killing in defence of one's loved ones." He caught the look in her eyes. "It's different for humans, isn't it?"

Amelia sighed. "I suppose it is. I can't believe I basically gave you free reign to commit murder. I know they were Death Eaters but..." She fell into silence and Gornuk realised he had nothing he could say to make her feel better. He often forgot how different they were. They were almost from two separate worlds and as much as he could deny it, they'd never fully understand each-other.

"For what its worth, I'm sorry for the damage I caused," he said quietly. "I didn't think."

"But neither did I!" Amelia shouted, slamming her fist on the table. "And unlike you, I wasn't doing what I thought was right! I was doing what I thought was easy." She looked completely miserable. "I mean, I'm meant to uphold the law, not take it into my own hands. What kind of person does that make me?"

Gornuk was stunned. He'd never realised she felt this way. Frankly, he doubted anyone had. Stepping around the table, he placed his arms around her. "Hey, hey. It makes you goblin. Or human, or whatever you want to call it. No-one can be perfect one hundred percent of the time Amy."

"But that's just it Willan," she said, pulling away. "I wasn't acting human."

Gornuk felt wounded, but his next words were cut off when an envelope clapped him round the back of his head. "Argh! What the hell?" He snatched the letter out of the air and glared around him, his eyes eventually alighting on Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. That wasn't good. Dumbledore never sent his bird if the letter was anything less than urgent. He tore the envelope open and read the note inside, his face losing colour.

"What is it Gornuk?" asked Amelia, concerned.

"You better have a read," he said, shocked. "How many times can one boy be dragged into so much trouble? I mean, he's been there for less than two years. What are the chances?"

"Merlin's beard," breathed Amelia as her eyes swept over the letter. "I'll get a team together. They seem to have thing under control, but this is just getting ridiculous."

Gornuk nodded in agreement, standing to leave. "I'll leave you to it."

"Wait Gornuk." Amelia grabbed his arm and span him round. "You know I didn't mean it like that when I said I wasn't acting human. I would never-"

"I know."

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Hagrid looked sorrowfully at the immense beast that lay dead before them, the rifle toy-like in his hands. "Such a shame," he said, shaking his shaggy head. "Must'a been at least a thousand years old and now it's dead, just like that."

Snape however, looked at the creature with distaste. "It wasn't natural Hagrid. Try not to get too emotional." He stepped closer to it, surveying the carcass. At least the resources it provided the school would be useful, though it was a shame he'd had to boil its eyes. Secretly, Snape found it darkly amusing that Hagrid was less upset by the death of Lockhart than he was of a giant snake. It was rather telling what kind of human Lockhart was, really.

"Alright," said Auror Shacklebolt. "It looks like we're done here. The school can deal with the snake as it sees fit. I'm assuming the dark artefact Mr Lockhart was using has been destroyed?" Snape nodded. "Good. I don't hold with trying to research these things. We've lost good unmentionables that way."

Snape didn't know how much Amelia trusted Shacklebolt, but she's been willing to let him see Quirrell's side room, so he supposed it was a lot. "And what of Mr Lockhart's death?" he asked carefully.

"We're treating it as self defence," replied Shacklebolt. "I'm about to tell Professor Flitwick that we won't be pressing charges."

"I'm glad," Snape said, a half-smile forming on his lips. "Tell me, will you be investigating Lockhart for any further crimes. I know he can't be charged, but I'd be glad to help."

Shacklebolt smiled, revealing white teeth. "Thank you Professor. If we need your testimony, I'll get in contact." He paused for a moment, looking at Snape considerately. "I know you had a bad relationship with James Professor, but tell me, is Mr Potter much like his father?"

Snape stood there, turning the question around in his head. He'd had a lot of trouble with this himself and he'd taught the boy for long enough. "No," he said finally. "I don't believe he is. He never bullies anyone and I've never once heard him answer back. Honestly, I think he just wants to get through life as quietly as he can."

"He doesn't seem to be having much luck, does he?" said Shacklebolt, giving the room a final glance as they turned to leave.

"None at all," replied Snape, not looking back.


	44. Three weeks is a long time

**AN: Time for a time jump.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP.**

Harry woke up groggily to find himself looking at the ceiling of the hospital wing. Well, at least he wasn't dead, which probably meant everything had worked out okay in the end. He felt around on the table beside his bed, finding his glasses and putting them on. As the room came into focus, he found himself looking at an unexpected face. "Ted," he said, his voice hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

Ted started awake in his chair. "Oh thank god Harry," he said grinning in relief. "You had us worried. I'll go get Poppy."

Harry struggled to sit up. "Worried? Just how long was I out for?" It must have been a while; Harry could see that Ted's usually clean-shaven face was covered in long stubble.

"It's been three weeks. Apparently you overdid a spell of some kind down in that horrible place." Ted caught Harry's expression and held up his hands. "And before you start asking questions, I told you I have to go get Madam Pomfrey. Doctor's orders and all that."

"Okay," said Harry reluctantly. "But you'll tell me afterwards right?"

"Of course," said Ted. "There's a lot to tell. Not much of it is good." And with that comforting statement he left Harry in the dark of the hospital wing, wondering what the man had meant. Why the hell had Ted come? What was wrong with Gornuk?

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Quirrell was close to tears these days, not that he'd ever show it. That idiot Lockhart. Why had they given the diary to a full grown wizard? It had taken too long. Of course they had all the money they could ever need now, but Quirrell was no closer to getting the parasite out of his head.

The men he'd sent looking for another way to give the dark lord a new body had so far come back with nothing useful. It wasn't that he wanted Voldemort back, but the man was slowly eroding away at him, making him weak. He shouldn't have put him in his place, he knew. He just had to hope that when they found a way to get him out, he could put some modifications into the ritual to protect himself and Rita. That was part of what had made the ritual to make the Horcrux Tom's body permanent had been so perfect. Not only was he now behind schedule, he still had to run the war effort to keep up appearances.

"Sir?"

Quirrell looked up from his map as two of the newer members knocked on his open door. "Enter," he said, gesturing them to sit when he saw them standing around awkwardly. "Well? How has the ministry responded to our actions?"

The two men took their seats, looking dog tired. He supposed it was fitting considering they were werewolves, if admittedly very well hidden ones. "The ministry is treating Amelia Bone's death as a homicide. The entire place is in an uproar. Apparently she was vital to holding half of the place together, not that anyone wants to admit it."

Quirrell smiled. "And her replacement?" he asked eagerly.

"Rufus Scrimgeour is proving nowhere near as popular," replied the younger man. "He's been having trouble with insubordination and all kinds of things. People don't seem to take kindly to how ambitious and uncaring he seems. However, my father thinks he'll have the place under control in under a month. He's certainly more competent than Fudge. Father says he reckons he'll probably use all this to push the man out of his seat once things calm down."

"Very good," replied Quirrell nodding. "You two may go. Leave your reports on the desk and get some sleep. You both look like you need it." As soon as they left Quirrell sat back, sighing. Perhaps he could turn into a komodo dragon for a few days and hide away from everyone. He was certain only Rita would know that trick.

This Amelia business was a perfect example of the trouble with having to keep up appearances. After all the things she'd been saying to the paper about the diary and Voldemort's heritage he suddenly found himself with Bellatrix Lestrange screeching at him to put the woman down, like she was some kind of animal. Bella's 'Dark Lord' had been no help whatsoever in claming the woman down. These days he was barely coherent, which was both a blessing and a curse.

Breaking fanatical Death Eaters out of Azkaban had been a mistake for him and Rita. Sometimes it became hard to remember what they were fighting for however. Quirrell had to remind himself he cared more about himself than this stupid war that hadn't even started. It was just becoming so easy to fall into the role of leader.

"You alright in there?" asked Rita as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"Not really," he replied. "I've got too much on my plate. Found anything useful?"

"Well, I got a letter back from Umbridge. We absolutely terrified her, so I'm pretty certain she's ours. She said she'd send on our research requests to her unspeakables, just so long as we kept quiet."

"Oh thank god," replied Quirrell, smiling as he relaxed. "They've got to be more useful than our boys."

"I had another idea for how we could use her," said Rita, smiling. "A way to curry favour with that unsightly blemish on the other side of your head."

"Oh?" Quirrell was now back to feeling worried. Rita had a tendency to find the role of terrorist as comfortable as he found the role of leader. It was, in many ways, much like her old job. Rita had always known how to stir up a community with fear. That her weapon of choice had changed from quill to violence was beginning to seem a trivial detail.

"I was thinking we could place her at Hogwarts. Honestly, her stint in office isn't likely to last long past Fudge's ousting and we both know that's inevitable."

Quirrell frowned. "So we'd have someone in Hogwarts. Rita, has it occurred to you that never seems to work out for us. I lost my temper and not only were Lockhart and the diary both lost, Tom's other pointless task was never completed. Not a single muggleborn died and they've apparently been shipping in mandrake draught, courtesy of a Mr Lovegood."

"But we'll be perfectly placed to strike at Dumbledore and Potter," countered Rita. She was having one of her stubborn moods, apparently. "Promise Dear Old Toady the world and she won't realise the risk until it's all too late."

"Fine," said Quirrell, not wanting to argue. "I'm supposing you'll find a way to blackmail those unspeakables of hers, won't you?"

Rita rolled her eyes. "Of course. Just the fact that they're connected to Umbridge will be a good starting point. After that, we can add whatever we want on top."

Quirrell stood up and pulled Rita out of the room, down to his private quarters. "What are our plans after all this Rita? What kind of life are we going to have?"

She frowned at his tone of voice, but didn't seem to be too bothered. "Well," said Rita, considering. "You've been funneling money from the fund Lockhart provided, so once we set up Voldemort with a new body and ensure he can't come after us, I assume we'll just have to disappear somewhere. I heard reports the Malfoys were hiding out in Bolivia. Perhaps we could try Costa Rica?"

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Gornuk was holed up in a wood cabin in the middle of Nowhere, Europe, pouring over maps, surveys and spy reports. He had to find them and exact retribution. He felt bad for abandoning Harry in his time of need, but the boy was resilient. He was sure Harry would understand. At least, Gornuk hoped he would.

He was ashamed to admit that he'd become closer to Amelia than he'd meant to. Gornuk knew his grandfather would have been appalled, but what did that man know? He'd still been bitter about ancient rebellions, for god's sake. Gornuk closed his eyes, attempting to slow down his breathing. Who was he kidding? He'd fallen for Amelia. It had been stupid, but nothing had come of it and so there was no dishonour in it. But Gornuk still felt he had to find Quirrell. It wasn't as if it didn't need to happen anyway.

He pulled a red-inked fountain pen. Dumbledore had mentioned a drop in the number of unicorns in the Forbidden Forest during Quirrell's time at Hogwarts. If he could bribe the right people he'd be able to get his hands on the required documents. Then he'd be able to trace Quirrell's path through Europe and probable hiding places. He'd have retribution, he swore it.

A low groan came from a large chest at the bottom of his bed. "Shut it," Gornuk snarled, kicking the chest and hearing the sound of low sobbing. That man seemed to have lived passed his usefulness. All of the information he had was out of date by now anyway. He supposed the bears would appreciate the meat.


	45. Memories of Amelia

**AN: Ah, the ideas are flowing again.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Dumbledore and Moody entered the pensieve apprehensively. "I honestly don't see how my being present is necessary Albus,Alastor" grumbled Moody. "I've gone over this enough times in my head."

Albus sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing his nose as they followed the Memory-Moody. "Alastor, what you've had nearly three weeks to play this over and over in your head. I myself find my memories can become muddled if I don't leave them alone."

Moody fell silent and instead focused his attention on his Double, striding through the corridors of the Auror Department. Without knocking, the memory barged into Shacklebolt's office. "Kingsley," he said, completely ignoring the small wizard sitting across from his collegue. "Come quick. Amelia's place."

"Not my most vigilant moment," muttered Moody, causing Albus to smile weakly. Then, the entire scene shifted, reappearing outside a large house. Moody, Kingsley and several hitwizards Dumbledore would have to check the names forwards did their best to drop the wards that had been thrown up to keep the first responders out. Meanwhile, there was the clear flicker and crackle of spellfire coming from inside the building.

"Horrible bloody wards," said Moody, grimacing. "Whoever set them up must have been a genius. Rather than build their own, they dropped the existing ones and then raised them again, configured to keep us out. I honestly have no idea how they managed to add the anti-apparation wards on top of that." He looked at Dumbledore edgeways. "The Death Eaters must be recruiting because they had no-one that good at wards before. No-one."

Dumbledore grimaced. That did not bode well. The wards eventually shattered and it took all their might for the Aurors and hitwizards to stay standing upright. He had to say, they were impressive as they moved on the house. Not one of them made a single mistake. Rather than going for the door, Moody blew the entire wall in. "Prevents the lookout watching the entry points knowing where you're coming from," said Moody conversationally.

The scene inside what appeared to be the dining room was chaos. Three men and a woman, all wearing silver masks and black cloaks were launching spells at Amelia, who was badly beaten up. Albus could see the body of a red haired girl lying in the ruins of the dining table and suddenly realised why there were tear tracks running down the strong woman's cheeks. "Not little Susan?" he said, horrified. "I remember signing her permission slip to return home myself. What was she doing at Amelia's?"

"Well, since her mother was in hospital, her father didn't feel he could leave her side. Amelia volunteered to look after her. We think it weakened the wards enough for them to get in."

The two men had broken off from fighting Amelia and were now facing off against Shacklebolt and Moody. "Why aren't they looking at-" Dumbledore's question was cut off as the hitwizards rushed forwards in a classic flanking manoeuvre, only to be cut to ribbons as they set off dark red glowing runes.

"And there's our rune and ward master again," said Moody angrily. "We think he set up the wards, then left before we arrived." Unwilling to enter the house and risk further traps, Memory Moody and Shacklebolt continued pouring spellfire at their attackers, who seemed to be the Lestrange brothers judging by their style. The last one appeared to be Bellatrix Lestrange, judging by the sheer ferocity and randomness of her was confirmed moments later when a well placed blast knocked Bellatrix, sending her mask flying.

Dumbledore stared at Amelia. The woman was barely standing, swaying like a tree in the breeze. "How long had she been duelling for?" he asked quietly.

"We think it was nearly five minutes before she could get off a signal," replied Moody. "Like I said, they have a damn good ward man." Dumbledore watched as Amelia's attacks became more ragged, almost missing the part where Shacklebolt lost his left hand at the wrist. Suddenly, Amelia stepped backwards and one of her heels broke. Bellatrix capitalised on the opening with a flurry of hexes and curses, leaving Amelia, lying on the ground, her wand hand shattered, struggling to breath through a mouthful of blood.

He stared in horror as Bellatrix sauntered over to where she lay, before straddling her chest. Pulling a silver knife from her belt, she giggled as brought it down hard into Amelia's chest. Dumbledore couldn't look, but still heard the horrible sounds of gurgling and the kicking of feet. "Well boys," called a harsh, mocking voice he knew belonged to Bella, "Looks like its time to split." The crack of three people apparating signalled the end of the memory and Albus found himself being steadied by Moody, who had him by the arm.

"I warned you it was a bad one, didn't I?" growled Moody, helping him to a seat.

Dumbledore nodded absent-mindedly. "So that's why Mr Gornuk left the country in such a hurry. I never thought I'd see anything that would make him leave Harry's side."

"I was always a little worried about how close those two were," said Moody, sitting down and taking a swig from his hip flask. "Now we know. I'd say he's after retribution."

"Definitely," replied Dumbledore. "If he loved her, he's honour bound to do so personally." He sighed, staring at the wood of his desk, examining the little imperfections that made it unique. "I just hope Harry will understand. That boy relies on Gornuk."

Moody's reply was cut off as the fireplace suddenly flooded with green flame. "Albus," came the tired voice of Poppy. "He's awake and asking questions. I think you'd better come."

Dumbledore stood up, hiding his emotions behind a grandfatherly mask. "I think you're right. I'll be down immediately. Moody, is that all?"

Moody nodded stiffly. "I'll walk myself out shall I? I don't trust that floo-powder nonsense."

He smiled weakly at his friend's paranoia. "Indeed. I'll have to find a way to bring Mr Potter up to speed gently."

Alastor gave a soft snort. "Good luck. You're going to need it."

HPHPHP

Harry understood why Gornuk had left, he remembered his time in the temple with the religious little man, but it still hurt. He felt abandoned. Harry knew why Gornuk would not contact him, it would risk exposure but he wished he could talk to him. He'd been hospitalised for three weeks for heaven's sake. At least he'd got letters from his other friends.

Vernon had sent a rather congratulatory note implying, though never outright stating, his pride at taking on a dangerous man and winning. Sirius', Remus' and the Tonks girls' letters had sounded horrified and incredibly supportive. Andromeda's had also contained an apology related to their first meeting and a standing invitation, which left Harry feeling a little better.

Frankly, Goyle and his... odd friend Luna had been life savers. The pair had quickly become members of Harry's group of friends, though they never fitted in quite as well with the others. Luna was a little too odd for most of Harry's friends and even he found himself occasionally utterly bamboozled by her odd statements and intense questions.

Hermione in particular found her the most annoying. "But there's no such thing as nargles," you'd here her shout through the corridors. Or crumple-horned snorcacs, or whatever other beast Luna was talking about today.

That was another thing that had changed. With Lockhart's exposure as a con, Hermione and Ron's friendship had picked up massively. Harry had taken a moment to explain the effects of Veela charm and Hermione had been incredibly embarrassed at her behaviour until he'd told her stories of what others had done when under the influence of the charm. He neglected to tell her that this was usually under the effect of Pureblooded Veela. She didn't need to know that. He was also very clear to tell her about how discriminated against Veela were. Hermione didn't need to develop a resentment of a people who couldn't help all of their effects on humans.

It was lucky the entire school thought that Harry and Goyle, or Greg as he was beginning to think of him, had been knocked unconscious and rescued by the teachers. He couldn't have taken the stares if the others knew they'd brought down Tom, or Lockhart, on their own the first time. He didn't agree with Greg insisting he did nothing. Who knew what would have happened if Tom had regained control before Greg had carried him most of the way out of there?

Mostly the friends focused on keeping there heads down and getting to Christmas with no more trouble. He was looking forward to going home to the strange family he'd gathered, even if it didn't feel like it was complete.


	46. Eugenics and the Lockharts

**AN: Things be getting crazy.**

**Disclaimer: I own only my own ideas.**

Gornuk sat in little restaurant in a wizarding town not far from his current hide out. These were much more common in France than in Europe and it was nice to not have to disguise one's nature in public, even if he did have to hide his identity. Gornuk still felt incredibly nervous however. After searching the surrounding area for a week, he'd received mail in his PO box from an unknown individual wanting a meeting. The meeting was to discuss an alliance in the hunt for Quirrell.

At first Gornuk had thought it was a terrible idea. He had no idea whether he could trust someone who'd made certain to be so anonymous. Added to that, his hunt for Quirrell held a religious significance. He was honour bound to bring down Quirrell and his allies for harming his beloved. Adding another to the hunt would seem... wrong.

But the investigation was quickly going nowhere fast. If there was a pattern to the minor attacks and unicorn slayings, he was yet to find it. He needed help if he was going to bring down Quirrell, there was no use denying it. And so, prepared for an ambush and armed to the teeth, Gornuk had sat down at the assigned table and was waiting for the stranger.

"Mr Gornuk?"

Gornuk looked up at the man standing before him and his eyes widened in recognition. "Leonard Lockhart?" he asked, uncertain of how to react.

"I'm glad you could make it," the man said, sliding into the chair across from him and picked up the menu. Leonard Lockhart was an imposing older man with red hair and beard, unlike many in his family, although it was starting to go grey. His robes had a slightly muggle cut to them, which allowed Gornuk to see how fit the sixty year old had managed to stay. What was most unexpected was his face. Leonard Lockhart had none of the easy charm or awe inspiring good looks of his nephew Gilderoy. That was not to say he was unattractive; the man was receiving admiring looks from many, but he didn't have the sheer overbearing allure that had made Gilderoy rich.

"Why did you want to meet?" asked Gornuk, ignoring the menu and focusing on business.

Leonard smiled ruefully. "I'll guess we'll order later," he said, placing his menu down on the table in front of him. "You know why I wanted to meet, so I assume your question is more accurately 'why are you also after Mr Quirrell'." Lockhart glanced around and reinforced the layers of privacy spells Gornuk had already set up before continuing.

"It's quite simple really. I have friends in both the Auror Office and the Department of Mysteries. I know what that artefact was doing to Gilderoy and I know who probably gave it to him. They weren't very clear on what the diary actually was and I doubt they could really say, but they were very clear that it would have drained the life out of him. Quirinus Quirrell murdered my nephew, even if Flitwick finished him off." The man's voice had gone from calm to painfully harsh as he spoke and his eyes were flashing.

"So, revenge?" asked Gornuk, examining the man carefully. He doubted Lockhart was being entirely truthful.

Leonard grimaced. "Well that and the fact that Quirrell has half the Lockhart funds. I might have loved my nephew, but I never really liked him that much."

"That makes you willing to take on a dangerous madman?" asked Gornuk disbelievingly. "Most wizards care more for their life than their gold Mr Lockhart."

"Do you understand what the Lockhart family actually is Mr Gornuk? Our heritage? Our practices?"

Gornuk chose his next words carefully. "I know you are a fairly recent pureblood family with rumours of veela ancestry."

Leonard let out a short barking laugh. "I would have thought that the goblins would have found more than that." He gestured over the waitress and quickly rattled off two orders, giving Gornuk an apologetic look. "Sorry, but I'm getting hungry and I figured you probably don't know what's best here."

Gornuk waved him off. "That's fine. I'm more interested in what you meant before."

Leonard looked uncomfortable. "I'm only telling you since I already know your motives, understand?" Gornuk nodded, his curiosity peaked. "Okay. The Lockhart family has always made the practice of marrying people with either Veela ancestry or recent newblood ancestry. We cover it up by throwing money at the right people." He made a face. "People don't look kindly on those they call halfbreeds, no matter their strengths."

"So basically you're practising eugenics to increase the success of your family and don't want anyone to find out, right?" Gornuk was secretly impressed. He'd often wondered at Gilderoy's freakish ability to draw a crowd.

Leonard scowled. "Well I wouldn't say it like that, but yes." The man sighed tiredly. "Look, we both want Quirrell dead. I just want to get back the family gold first. You have contacts that can help that happen and I have contacts that can help us find Quirrell. Do we have a deal?"

Gornuk considered the offer for a moment. "Very well, but you're paying for dinner."

Lockhart sighed. "Of course I am."

HPHPHP

"Found anything?" called Gornuk, peering through the dark of Quirrell's abandoned hide out.

"Nothing yet," replied Leonard. Gornuk had to admit that the man was good. Anyone who had worked for the Shah of Azhad for ten years had to be, but he hadn't expected them to find a lair so quickly. Leonard had a head for investigations, something he credited to his muggleborn nanny.

Gornuk walked deeper into the complex. He could feel the buzz of magic in the air and on the boxes lying on the warehouse floor. It looked like they'd transfigured most of their furniture on site. He kicked over one of the boxes dejectedly. Still no leads-

Wait. What was this?

"Hey Leonard," he called, scooping up a manilla folder and flipping it open. "Do you know an Arsene Lupin?"

The wizard wandered over to look over Gornuk's shoulder. "Yeah, I know him. He's the Ancient Runes Professor at Beauxbatons. Oh Merlin, this is all of his personal details. That's his home address."

Gornuk read a bit further. "Apparently he's staying at the Academy, so he should be safe for now."

"How can you tell?" asked Leonard, looking at the part Gornuk was pointing at.

"It's a pretty standard piece of code used in Albania. This must have been Quirrell's. He's probably doesn't trust all of his allies." Gornuk glanced at Leonard. "I think he was trying to grab Arsene to get to Remus."

Leonard scoffed. "Remus Lupin? What would be the point? He's a poor man the last I heard."

"He kind of works for someone I'm connected with. I think Quirrell's trying to get Remus onside to go after my friend."

Lockhart looked worried. "Would he betray them?"

"Not a chance," replied Gornuk confidently. "Still, it's worrying. We need to warn every Lupin we can find that Quirrell's after them."

"So, that's basically just Remus, Arsene and that old bat in Marjoca, right? I examined them for marriage potential a while back. Provided Remus is safe I doubt we'll have a problem."

Gornuk stared at Leonard. "Are you telling me there are literally only three Lupins left?"

"I know," said Leonard sadly. "Why do you think Arsene and Remus are so poor? Come on. We'll find nothing if we stand here talking all night."

Gornuk felt it as soon as the man moved further into the room; there was a charge in the air, like when you walked-

"Leonard stop! Wards!" As the words left his mouth he knew it was too late. Amazingly well hidden and complex wards which must have been rooted to hidden runes in the brickwork crackled into place, trapping them. Then there was the crack of at least six wizards apparating into the area surrounding them. "Oh bugger."

Leonard didn't bother to comment, instead flying into action. He launched a wave of fire along the floor, burning the wooden floor and tearing a hole in the glowing ward. This was followed by a spear of fire launched at the first man to raise his wand which burnt a neat hole in the man's chest. Before the others could react Leonard had grabbed Gornuk by the back of his jacket and with a thundering crack and a flash of fire, they apparated away to land on the floor of Gornuk's cabin with a thud.

"Sorry about that," said Lockhart wheezing. "I'm only good at picking up on wards if they're related to fire."

"What was that?" asked Gornuk, sitting up and staring at the man.

"I said I was-"

"Not the ward thing," snapped the goblin, cutting him off. " I mean the entire burning holes through people thing. How did you do that?"

"Oh," said Leonard, grinning and carefully making his way to his feet. "Well, people always forget the other thing about Veela, don't they?" He laughed at the look on Gornuk's face. "Oh, by the way, would you mind uncursing my belt now that you know I'm not trying to stab you in the back?"

Gornuk nodded stiffly. "Sure thing. Just give me a sec." After standing properly, he produced a wand of questionable legality and muttered a series of phrases under his breath.

"What would it have done if I'd tried anything?" asked Lockhart curiously.

"Cut you in two at the waist."

"Ah." They stood in awkward silence for a moment, looking at each-other. "So..." began Leonard before stopping and thinking. "Let's not try anything like that again for a while, okay? We seem to have so kinks to work out."

"Agreed."


	47. Christmas At Grimmauld Place

**AN: Sorry. Computer problems. A lot more computer problems. It's getting really old.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas and interpretation.**

Harry stood on the front steps of 12 Grimmauld Place alongside Remus and Ted, feeling nervous. Christmas felt like it had come out of nowhere after the chaos at Hogwarts and he wasn't certain he felt ready to spend Christmas with his godfather.

"Relax Harry," said Remus, smiling. "Sirius will be fine. He's settled down a bit now that his life is finally becoming normal again."

"He's right Harry," added Ted. "Plus Andromeda's cooking, so you won't be getting food-poisoning or anything. Now, come on."

Harry nodded, stepped forwards and knocked on the door. For a moment there was no response, but then there was the gentle sound of footsteps in the hallway. The door opened, to reveal a smiling Tonks.

"Wotcher Harry," said the girl, her hair a festive mix of red and white. "Hi Dad, hi... Remus." Harry caught the look that passed between them, but Ted either chose to ignore or didn't notice it. "Come on in. Sirius was sent out for groceries after he bugged Mum too much. Think he'll realise none of the stores are open on Christmas?"

Harry smiled, carefully stepping past her. The house looked very clean, apart from a hole in the wall a little way down the wall. "What happened there?" he asked Tonks.

"Mum didn't like her beloved aunt's portrait giving her lip and she got creative," she said, smiling.

"What did she do?" asked Harry, alarmed.

"Oh, she called dad the M-word a few weeks back," replied Tonks flippantly. "It had been a really bad day."

"I meant what did your mum do?" Harry amended.

"Bombarda Maxima. She was worried that Sirius would be angry but he thought it was really funny. He'd been trying to get rid of her for ages." Tonks leaned past him. "Mum! They're here!"

"Is Sirius back yet?" came a voice from the kitchen.

"I think he's still wandering the streets, looking for an open grocers."

Andromeda stepped out of the kitchen wearing an apron and an evil smile. "Perfect. He'll be out of my hair for a while yet then. Merry Christmas Remus," she said, smiling as she shook his hand over Harry's shoulder before turning to face him. "Hello Harry." He was a little surprised when she pulled him into a warm hug. "Thank you. Mr G told me you tried to help Sirius. It means a lot to us."

Harry was left feeling flustered and mumbled something in reply, which earned a laugh from Andromeda as she led him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table. "We'll be giving gifts at the end of the day," she informed him, sitting down across the table. "Lunch will be ready in about half an hour and won't need much attention."

"Okay." Remus was dragged in by Tonks to sit next to her and Ted slid in beside Andromeda.

"Now Harry," said Andromeda, smiling. "I'm afraid I've never really had a chance to get to know you. Why don't we change that?"

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Sirius stomped up the steps to his house, swearing under his breath. He'd get her back for that, he really would. It was his own fault really. He shouldn't have been so gullible. Andromeda had always been doing this to him, ever since they were children. He still remember the time she tricked him into asking a girl to see Uranus. All he'd wanted was some help with his Astrology homework. Though to be fair that entire event had worked out pretty well for him, so he'd forgiven her for that one. Plus she'd grown up, or at least he thought she had. Today was giving him doubts.

Sirius stopped when he heard the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. Harry and the others must have already arrived. "That you Sirius?" came Andromeda's voice. "Found any groceries?" she said, laughing.

"Oh shut up," he said, smiling as he walked into the kitchen. And there he was, laughing at something Nymphadora had said. "Hello Harry," said Sirius, suddenly feeling nervous.

Harry stood up, also looking nervous. "Hello Sirius," he said, stepping forwards. "How have you been?"

"Not bad, apart from being sent on a fool's errand by my supposedly favourite cousin. You? How's that uncle of yours treating you?"

Harry smiled happily. "Yeah. He got me a James Bond Omnibus for Christmas actually. Things with him have been really good, all things considered."

Sirius had no idea who James Bond was, so he latched onto it and suddenly the awkwardness was over. They sat down as Andromeda and Ted served a large Christmas Lunch with all the trimmings, then shared stories about all sorts of things. Sirius tried to paint himself as a heroic prankster while Andromeda worked to undermine his reputation with some of the most embarrassing stories she could think of.

Harry told him more about his friends at Hogwarts, though he wouldn't talk about what had happened in the Chamber. Luna sounded like proper Marauder material if she had the right inspiration. Goyle had Sirius a bit worried, but if he'd actually been resorted the boy couldn't be that bad. Tonks found the idea of someone being resorted too bizarre for words, but he'd remembered it happening to someone in his second year. It had all worked out well for them, though he'd always wondered at someone going from Hufflepuff to Slytherin.

After lunch there'd been music and Sirius was treated to the hilarious sight of Andromeda dragging a stammering Harry to his feet and trying to teach him to waltz. Sirius found himself wondering whether the boy had a tiny crush on his cousin, judging from the colour of his face. He'd mentioned it to Ted who'd given him an amused smile but didn't seem bothered. Tonks had heard as she passed by with a very awkward looking Remus and thought it was the cutest thing ever.

That as another thing. Something was definitely up between his niece and best friend, as much as they both tried to hide it. Remus hadn't been so quiet around a girl since that time he'd tried asking out Emily Brown and been shot down, but Tonks certainly didn't seem disinterested. He wasn't certain how he should feel about this. He'd have to have a word with his best friend before someone got the wrong idea. Not that Remus wasn't good enough for Tonks, but he worried that people might gossip if they saw the glances that passed between the pair.

He'd seen Andromeda looking at Remus with an uncertain expression on her face as well and eventually cornered her just before she started on dinner.

"Dromeda," he began, unsure of her reaction to his question. "Do you know what's going on between Remus and Nymphadora."

"I don't know," she said, sighing. "Probably nothing. Remus is a good man. He'd never take advantage of her, its just-"

"That her life would be much harder with him?"

Andromeda shook her head. "It's not just that. She's so young and I'm afraid she'll be heart-broken if anything happens."

"Like what?" asked Sirius, a little angry. "Concerned that he won't be able to control himself?"

"No," she said, smiling sadly. "I'm more worried that he'll turn her down." She shook her head. "Enough of this. Go tell Ted to come and help me making dinner."

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Remus grabbed Harry's arm as he nearly fell over and began knocking the soot of his shoulders. "You're not really one for floo powder are you?" he said, smiling.

"Don't wizards have a way of travelling apart from brooms that doesn't make you ill?" grumbled a tired looking Harry, straightening his clothing.

Remus laughed, before taking pity on the boy and casting a quick set of scourgifies. "You'd better get to bed Harry. It's nearly eleven."

"Alright," said Harry, turning to face the basement. "I'll see you in the morning Remus. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Harry," said Remus, about to head upstairs before he stopped. "Did Mr Gornuk send you anything?"

"Oh," said Harry awkwardly. "Yes he did actually. The Tales of The Prince of Persia, by Leonard Lockhart. Apparently not all the Lockhart's are hacks." Harry's expression looked a bit painful, like he was trying to control two different emotions at once. "He said he was really sorry he wasn't here, but I understand. It's something he has to do."

"He's a tough man Harry. I'm sure he'll be fine," Remus said this with more confidence than he actually felt, but Harry wasn't fooled.

"I'm not. There's too much I don't know. I," here Harry's voice began to crack, but he pushed on. "I just don't to lose him Remus and no-one can really promise me I won't."

Remus leant down and scooped him into a hug. "How long have you been thinking about this?" he asked gently.

"On and off ever since I heard he'd gone after Quirrell." Harry's shoulders shook, but the boy didn't cry. He was too proud by far.

"Come on," said Remus, pulling Harry towards the stairs. "I'll make you some hot chocolate before you go to bed." He knew it wasn't much, but it was all he could do. He just hoped it would be enough for the moment.


	48. Memoria Reiecto

**AN: One of my friends asked me what Leonard looks like. For reference, I think of him as Charles Dance if anyone is curious.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

With Arsene Lupin it was hard to tell truth from rumour. Leonard and Gornuk's latest line of inquiry was also showing up less than stellar results. What was known by the general public was that the man was one of the best rune and ward masters of this century, that he had worked at Beauxbatons Academy for the last six years and that he was an unapologetic womaniser.

What the criminal underworld knew was that he was the best burglar of the past two centuries, even if half the stories about him were fabrications. He'd supposedly stolen the entire emergency funds of the Republic of Novgorod and made off with a Golden Fleece from Colchis in the same two month period. The fact that people actually believed he _might_ have done it was certainly telling of the man's reputation.

What neither of them could understand was the apparent lack of any sign of affection between Remus and Arsene. Gornuk had sent a letter to Remus and found the werewolf completely indifferent to his uncle. Since Arsene had never shown any interest in his nephew's affairs it left them uncertain as to what Quirrell wanted with the man. He was clearly talented and would definitely be a boon to the enemy, but to what purpose?

They were going to have to meet with the mysterious man soon to find out his part in all this. An added advantage was that though he'd always been neutral in conflicts before, he might be swayed to their side if he felt personally endangered. Even so, Gornuk felt it might be wise to not take anything too valuable to a meeting with such a sticky-fingered man.

HPHPHP

Leonard was looking more and more frustrated the longer he sat talking to the famous Arsene Lupin and Gornuk had to resist trying to reign him in over the man's magical earpiece. Not that he wasn't certain Arsene didn't already know about his hiding place, but he didn't want to look like an idiot.

"So, Mr Lockhart, you come to me with a warning?" The voice was mocking, the accent layered on about as thick as it could be. Arsene was clearly toying with Leonard. He'd heard reports of this before. The man liked to play games, even with his sometimes allies. "A warning about this Quirinus Quirrell? I know of him and fail to see a reason to be concerned."

Don't let him get to you Leonard thought a worried Gornuk. He doesn't respect us yet and unless we manage to convey how much danger he's in he'll spurn our offer and walk out of here. We need any information he can provide.

To his credit Leonard actually made a good effort of keeping his cool. "Surely he is at least an irritant."

"Not one I am overly concerned about." Arsene's voice sounds dismissive, but there is something hidden behind it. What he would give for a look in his eyes.

"But one that you'd like to have out of your hair nonetheless, eh?" Leonard's good, Gornuk has to give him that. He just caught the side of the Arsene's face in the lamplight. He looked sorely tempted.

"I might be."

"Why not send any information you might come across our way?" said Leonard softly, leaving Gornuk wondering for a moment whether the man was tapping into a little of his allure. "We could come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

"I'll consider it," said Arsene uncomfortably. "In the mean time however, I intend to enjoy the party." Ah, clever. Preying on the man's insecurities. Leonard had thrown him off for just long enough to get the desired answer.

"Think he'll contact us?" came Leonard, apparently walking away from the party from the sudden lack of noise Gornuk was hearing.

"Hopefully," the goblin replied. "Either way, he confirmed he knows of Quirrell's attentions. We can watch him to determine Quirrell's intentions. In any event, it's time to leave."

"Agreed," said Leonard. "This party was getting slow anyway."

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Gornuk had been a little concerned when Leonard hadn't come back to their hideout, until he'd found him at the local inn, leaving a room full of giggling. Leonard might not have the aura that Gilderoy touted around, but it certainly seemed to give him an edge.

"Nice girls?" he asked politely. In truth, Gornuk disapproved but didn't think it polite to mention.

"Not particularly," said the man, grinning. "Any news from your contacts in Germany?"

"None yet. Yours?"

Leonard shrugged non-committally. "It might take a while."

"Shame. So, considering we have no new data, I suggest we find other ways to amuse ourselves."

Leonard must have caught the look on Gornuk's face, because his blissful expression sloughed off like used skin. "What are you planning?"

"I think we should disillusion some of his supporters, that's all." Gornuk's smile, if anything, became more wicked. "A lot of them believe he is some revolutionary crusader. I might have acquired some memories from witnesses of the last war. The most far gone won't budge, but the young pups..."

For the first time since he'd known him, Leonard looked a little sickened. "That's really low Gornuk."

"If it breaks them out of their happy little delusions it'll be worth it." The goblin sat down at a table and pulled out a folder. "Have you ever heard of Memoria Reiecto Leonard?"

The man nodded his head. "I think it's what happens when you overload a damaged pensieve with memories and it breaks. Everyone in the room is hit with memory fragments." His eyes widened. "Oh god. You're not serious, are you?"

"Do you want to know which memories I intend to use?"

Leonard looked ashen. "Just tell me and be done with it."

"The tortures and murders of the victims' families." The goblin smirked at his displeasure.

Despite the brutality of it, he could see the point. Making the idealists feel that would certainly shake their beliefs, even if it had no effect on the fanatics. "So," he said, attempting to regain some of his composure. When do we start?"

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"Come on guys, wake up!" cried Sanguini, grinning at the tired looking werewolves.

"What the hell is it you damn bloodsucker?" grouched Alison, a girl barely out of her teens.

"Someone triggered the innermost wards on our last hide-out," he explained as they pulled themselves out of bed and began to throw on clothes. "We have them trapped like rats and Quirrell wants a real show of force."

"How many are coming?" asked the girl, still not entirely happy with her overly perky friend.

"Along with you four there should be about twenty."

Alison's eyes widened. "Merlin's arse! You weren't kidding. How long do we have?"

"Five minutes," replied the dark vampire. "I'll have to side-along with one of you guys, if that's okay."

"Fine," growled Alison as she grabbed him and dragged him out the door. "Just how are you going to help anyway? It's not like you can use a wand."

"I'm just an extra body sweetheart," said Sanguini, ignoring when she thumped him on the arm. "A very attractive body in fact."

"You're a creature that used to be a corpse. Keep dreaming."

As they rounded the corner, the five came face to face with someone they had not wanted to meet. Bellatrix Lestrange, the cold, hard monster that all of them were terrified of.

Alison found her voice first. "Mistress L-"

"Did I say you could talk dog?" The look in her eyes was something he'd hated seeing back home. Contempt. She was using it like a knife, cutting away at the werewolf's self esteem.

Sometimes Sanguini wished they didn't have to work with these people. There were benefits; money and strong fighters were at the Dark Lord's, or should he say Quirinius Quirrell's, beck and call. The only problem was that their superiors weren't after equality for halfbreeds and outcasts. They didn't have many options for allies but Sanguini just hoped they wouldn't have to work with the man too long to get what they want.

"Get going," she snarled, sweeping past them. Not one of them was brave enough to speak and Sanguini grabbed at Alison's arm just as she prepared to apparate. There was a felling like being squeezed through a tube and then, as their feet touched solid ground, everything went to hell.


	49. Ominous Happenings

**AN: Sorry. Life got in the way.**

**Disclaimer: Only me ideas are mine.**

The Komodo Dragon blinked at Bellatrix Lestrange as she stormed out of Quirrell's office, slamming the door in frustration at being unable to find her master's 'voice'. Slowly, it raised its head, tasting the air and listening out for footsteps. When it heard nothing it almost seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

Quirrell had to admit it pretty embarrassing to be hiding from his subordinates as an oversized lizard, but it was all too much. None of his plans were working and he could feel Voldermort eating away at his subconscious. Mass desertions amongst the werewolves and the few vampires had followed the 'memory bomb'. He had a few left, but he was now left relying on Death Eaters he wouldn't trust as far as he could throw. What was in that Pensieve?

The lizard stretched. He couldn't hide forever; there was work to be done. Quirrell winced in pain as he slid back into human form. He could feel the Dark Lord's mind stirring, sensing the change in form. Quirrell snorted. The old parasite was probably remembering when he first caught Quirrell like this. He hadn't thought about how vulnerable it would make him, but it was too late for regrets now.

The wretched thing still needed unicorn blood. He could feel it eating away on the inside, gnawing at him. The diary had proven disastrous and Quirrell was running out of options. Stepping over to the fireplace, he grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder and threw it on the flames. "The Hidden Room, Beauxbatons!"

He sat waiting for almost a quarter of an hour before he saw a response. "Quirrell?" Arsene's voice sounded irritable. "I thought I told you not to contact me here."

"Don't get snappy with me," snarled Quirrell. "I'm the one keeping you on retainer, remember?"

"Yes, yes Englishman." Arsene rolled his eyes, ignoring the anger on Quirrell's face. "What do you need. Do I have to drop the wards on another ministry official's house? I hope not. It's boring work and a waste of my talents."

Quirrell reigned in the sudden burst of rage. Voldemort was almost at the surface and he carefully pushed him back down, into the depths. "I need a certain artefact acquired from Hogwarts."

"Oh?" Arsene tried to sound nonchalant, but eyes lit up at the prospect of the challenge.

"Meet me at a safer location and we'll discuss the details. That is of course, if you're interested." Quirrell smirked as he saw the look of greed on Arsene's face. The man must have known there would be a bonus in it for him.

"A chance to steal from under the great Albus Dumbledore's nose?" Arsene said, a predatory glint in his eye. "Oh I'm interested Monsieour Quirrell. Believe me."

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Sanguini stared down at Alison, who was lying in the bed, staring at the wall. She'd been catatonic ever since the incident and he was at his wit's end. He'd been hit by waves of grief and blurry images himself, but she and the others had been closer. Sanguini couldn't begin to imagine what she'd seen and frankly didn't want to.

He'd told his family the nature of what he had seen and the feeling that the Dark One had been responsible for such suffering. They had not been convinced, but agreed to withdraw their support from Quirrell since the larger werewolf packs were withdrawing theirs. Sanguini just hoped they'd remain neutral because he could see no good coming from a relationship with the Death Eaters. They would be his tools, weapons, nothing more and when he was finished with them he would discard them. The giants were still disinterested due to Quirrell's apparent lack of power, which was good, but he'd seen a small group of Dementors travelling towards Quirrell's latest lair.

Things were going to be bad all across Europe if this kept up, but his family didn't want to see it. The vampires had always kept themselves even more isolated than the wizards. They felt untouchable in their hidden caves and castles, their forest hideaways and gated communities. Sanguini could see the danger though. This war would spread across Europe to any community that stood aside or chose the wrong side. His family should flee before they were dragged into it, but they never would.

Sanguini for his part was leaving France and mainland Europe behind. England was more of a target for sure, but there were powerful wizards there that could protect them. The legendary Dumbledore had taken Death Eaters under his protection before; hopefully he would do so again. Perhaps he might even be able to help Alison. The girl didn't deserve her pain.

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Harry focused. Remus and Monall thought he could learn to cast Hlifskera without fainting if they could work out his problem with the spell. It just required a lot of trial and error.

"Hlifskera!" The shield was thinner this time, less draining, but Harry still staggered at the strain.

"Good, good!" Monall grinned from his perch on the bench. "Remus, throw the rock!"

Harry felt the strain as the shield buckled under the rock's weight, but then it neatly collapsed in on the rock. This time, the object was not reduced to powder but broken into smaller pieces. He grinned weakly as Remus stepped forwards, grabbing him under one arm to steady him. "You did well Harry. Time for a break?"

"Indeed! Excellent work boy!" Monall was grinning his shark smile, shifting from foot to foot in his portrait. "We should teach you knife-fighting once you have enough shields under your belt."

"No-one here aside from you knows knife-fighting," griped Remus. "Plus we can't let people hear he knows how to fight in such a... goblin or muggle style. They don't approve."

"They also don't seem to approve of exercise," quipped Monall, smiling. "He's a Griphook. He should know how to kill a man up close."

"Kill?" Remus looked a little sick, which had Harry a little annoyed. He was the one who was nearly falling over.

"I'm sure Monall only wants me to be able to protect myself Remus," he said weakly, carefully sitting down. "It'd be useful to know. Maybe I could learn a little unarmed combat too." Harry remembered being bet up by Dudley and his gang. It wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.

"Maybe," said Remus, looking uncertain. "Come on, lets get you some lunch."

Harry was led into the kitchen and sat down while Remus began to cook a small meal. "Can I look at your paper?"

"You don't have to ask," replied Remus slightly exasperated. "You should check out the front-page. It's bad news for Hogwarts, mark my words."

Harry scanned the article, frowning. "Who's Delores Umbridge?"

"A bigoted politician at the end of her political career now that her patron is on the way out," said Remus bitterly. "She's the one who pushed through all that anti-werewolf legislation."

Harry frowned. "So that's why is she's coming to Hogwarts? Because she'll be out of a job soon?"

"Well, she says she's coming to Hogwarts after concerns were raised on the quality of the education it provides and the lack of safety at the school, but yes, that's basically it." Remus grimaced as he looked back over his shoulder. "You don't know what dementors are, do you Harry?"

"I know that Sirius mentioned they were the guards at Azkaban," Harry replied carefully. He had a feeling there was more to this.

Remus snorted. "Dementors are despair in a cloak basically. They suck all the hope of good feelings out of a person. They aren't even classified as beings, they're called non-beings since they've never actually been alive. Saying that the remaining dementors will be at Hogwarts for the protection of the students is like saying you'll have hungry piranhas on guard duty. The ministry still thinks they can control them. Hah!"

"Should I be worried?"

Remus smiled weakly as he scooped the food onto two plates. "I want to say no Harry, I really do, but yes. Yes you should be worried."


	50. Denied Resources

**AN: Sorry. Real life and writer's block got in the way. I've also been writing another story to work through the block which has helped a little.**

**Disclaimer: You know it.**

Sanguini felt himself gulp audibly as he looked into the eyes of the old man before him. They'd chosen a book-store owned by Remus Lupin, a werewolf who'd been against Voldemort since the first war, as their meeting place. To be honest he'd expected to have found that man a comforting presence but the look he was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

The old man steepled his fingers, looking over his half-moon spectacles with practised precision."So Sanguini M-"

"Just Sanguini please," said the vampire, nervously cutting the old man off. "I'm not affiliated with my family currently."

"Very well my boy," said Albus Dumbledore, smiling grandfatherly. "Why do you seek my protection? Are you so afraid of your former master?" The question somehow held more weight than it should have.

"The vampires always knew Quirinus Quirrell and his Death Eaters had no regard of the people they seek to ally with," began Sanguini, his voice calming as his vampiric confidence began to reassert itself. "But we thought we could use the alliance to right some of the wrongs committed against us. I told you of the memories that were inflicted on me and my friend, didn't I? Being associated with that monster-" His voice trailed off as his mind drifted back to the memories.

"But why do you seek my protection exactly?" asked Dumbledore. "Surely your family-"

"My family has decided to stay neutral in a war where we can't afford to be." He grimaced at his next reason. He didn't want to owe this man too much. "I also need to help my friend Alison. She saw the worst of those memories. I know you are an occlumens. You could help her if you wanted."

"I'm not a mind healer Mr Sanguini," said Albus, looking a little reluctant. "I don't know how much I could help."

The vampire slammed his fist down hard on the table. "I know you've studied the effects of memories Mr Dumbledore. At the very least you'll have contacts that can help her."

"Very well," replied Dumbledore. "But you do realise that the majority of her recovery will be down to her, don't you? There is no magic solution to this." The old man took of his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you think you could alert others to the danger Quirrell and his Death Eaters pose? Knowing that dark creatures are abandoning his cause will help ours."

Sanguini nodded. "Of course. Where might I acquire rooms in London?"

"We have a spare room that should be fairly easy to black out," said Remus from the corner where he had been sitting silently. "The door's enchanted to let you out at Trafalgar Square. You'll never have to interact with anyone else. We'd rather you didn't. Everyone here values their privacy." The werewolf handed him a set of keys and a map. "And the back of the shop and my rooms are off limit, understand?"

"Got it," replied the vampire, nodding. "Can Alison-"

"I'll set up an attached room, yes."

The vampire sighed, the tension finally leaving his body. It was funny how the body kept its habits. "Okay then. I'll go get her and our things tomorrow."

He stood up to leave, but paused as he heard Dumbledore stand. "You know this won't make your life easier, don't you?"

Sanguini glanced back, smiling sadly. "I know."

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Harry had seen Dumbledore and Remus talking with the pale stranger and his curiosity was peaked. He'd heard of vampires from Remus and Monall, who had fought alongside and against them at different points in his long life, but he'd never seen one. This one looked stressed, like he had a lot on his mind, but Harry wasn't certain whether he should ask about it or not.

He'd opted for asking Remus instead. It had been a less than profitable exercise. His friend apparently wanted as little to do with the man as possible and made Harry promise not to talk to the man, whose name was apparently Sanguini. After that they'd gone back to his shield work.

His range of shields was coming along nicely since he thought he'd probably hold off from relying on Hlifskera too much. It couldn't catch a spell anyway. There was a Viking shield that did, exploding outward on impact using the energy of the oncoming spell, but it'd probably put Harry in a coma if he tried it this young.

His range of offensive spells was limited. He was working on his stunner, but most of his attacks were jinxes and hexes which would give him time to flee. Harry secretly wanted to learn some of the nastier curses he'd read about, just so he could put someone down and feel confident they'd stay that way, but somehow doubted Remus would approve. Monall definitely would and Gornuk would be ecstatic, but the latter didn't have much influence on his life currently.

Harry was still feeling abandoned. Gornuk, his first friend, had disappeared off the map chasing spectres and sometimes he felt like raging at the goblin, throwing howler after howler out to find him. It wouldn't have done any good of course. He had no idea where Gornuk was currently and he doubted Hedwig would be able to find him either, even with her keen eyes and wits.

Harry had been a little surprised by the invitation to spend some time with the Grangers, but had taken it, eager for any distraction from his thoughts. So Harry found himself being apparated to a deserted area near the Granger's very suburban home. His thought first was that it was like a less mad version of Privet Drive. All the houses shared similar layouts and had probably been built at the same time. The evils of a Neighbourhood Association didn't seem to have been inflicted here however. The gardens were varied, both in terms of style and maintenance. A small part of him still winced at the thought of having to weed some of them. He couldn't imagine pulling that off in a day.

When Harry reached the driveway of Hermione's house he did a double take. He couldn't have imagined someone so organised could come from a home featuring such a wild garden. Admittedly the lawn was incredibly neat, but the flowerbeds were crammed to bursting with bushes and shrubs. "What is it Harry?"asked Remus, looking concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"Just not what I had expected," replied Harry. "You know how sometimes you have an image in your head of what someone's home looks like and then you find out its not like that at all?"

Remus smiled. "Yes, I do. I thought Tonks' place would be a mess."

Harry quirked a surprised eyebrow. "So have you finally-"

The man sighed, shaking his head. "No we have not. We've agreed to stay friends, but that's it. There are too many obstacles Harry."

"But-"

"Please Harry, just drop it. If anything were to ever happen, which it probably won't, it would be a long time in the future." Remus ran his hand through his greying hair, looking tired. "Now come on, let's go say hello to the Grangers."

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The Grangers were incredibly warm and inviting people. Mr Granger seemed to have Hermione's incredibly curly hair, but on a smaller scale. Mrs Granger had mousey brown hair which was actually a little lacklustre, but Harry didn't really care. They were nice people and seemed to be as in love with books as their daughter was, judging from the state of their house. Bookshelves lined the walls of both the living and dining rooms, as well as Hermione's. He had a feeling her parents' room would be the same but didn't think it polite to ask. He'd even glanced into a room he assumed to be a study and realised there was probably barely any standing room.

He shouldn't have been surprised, but somehow the sheer density was almost alarming. In fact, if he hadn't seen the spines of many of the books, he would have assumed this was a wizarding residence from the almost eccentric worship of books. Actually, thinking about it he supposed it was these days.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice was laced with concern and he forced himself to surface. "Are you okay? You seem... off."

He smiled weakly. "I'm fine."

"Really?"

Harry sighed at the look on her face. "Not really, no. I'm worried about a friend of mine."

"Mr G the goblin?"

Harry stared at Hermione for a moment. "How did you get that out of Neville?"

"I didn't. Goyle told me." She smiled sadly. "Thought I already knew. After that it didn't take much to realise that Mr G was Gornuk. I know you haven't been receiving letters from Mr G for a while. Do you want to talk about it."

Harry sighed. "Yes- no. Kinda. Look, it's complicated. I'm not entirely certain how I should feel about it. I know why he's doing what he's doing, but I also know it could get him killed." He glanced up to see Hermione's mum looking in, sharing the concerned look of her daughter. "Er... hello again Mrs Granger."

"Is everything alright dear?" The edge in her voice was obvious.

Harry glanced at Hermione, looking for guidance but finding none. He supposed a muggle would be less likely to be considered a worthwhile target than a wizard. "Mr G is a friend of mine and he's gone after some bad people. Goblins are big on retribution. He kind of feels he has to dispense justice. I can understand that."

Harry hadn't expected the look of horror on Mrs Granger's face, but noticed how fast she masked it. "Oh. You say you can understand it?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Er, I guess, yeah. The same people who killed his friend killed my family, well most of it anyway. I know I want them dead, so..."

Hermione's mum sat down gently beside him, looking at him pityingly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." She seemed to be fighting with herself, deciding whether to speak or not. "Listen Harry, I know I haven't ever experienced something like that, but you need to know that revenge is poisonous. Did you know that in South Africa, after the Apartheid government fell, they let people who admitted their crimes go?"

Harry frowned. He'd remembered hearing a little about South Africa in class one time, but couldn't understand why you simply wouldn't charge the lot of them. "Why?"

"Because... damn this is hard." Mrs Granger rubbed at her eyes. "The problem with revenge is it's retaliatory. Simply charging everyone who was guilty wouldn't have worked. Everyone connected with them would have been angry and struck back in some way. Think about feuding families in Viking times." She saw the look on his face and realised Harry needed a deeper explanation. "Someone steals your pig, so you beat him up. But he has a brother who's angry, so he tries to kill you. Now your brother's angry as well, so he kills him in retaliation, which gets the rest of their family angry and suddenly you have a feud."

"So your saying people should get away with what they've done?" asked Harry, an angry edge in his voice.

"No. I'm saying revenge is tempting and appealing because it's immediate. I'm not explaining this very well, am I?" she said quietly. "Why don't we leave this alone for the moment. You two have fun, okay? Hermione, I think you mentioned Harry's never seen Star Trek. Why don't you change that?"

"Okay," replied Hermione awkwardly. "Come on Harry."

He followed, his head spinning, Now what was he meant to think?

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Gornuk sat in the dark, watching Leonard talk with the muggle banker. So far, the man was following the script he'd laid out for him. That was good. Gornuk had always suspected that Quirrell would hide the money in the muggle world. It had just been a case of figuring out where. The man was smart enough to not have been stereotypical and use the Swiss, but there were only so many banks that both gave a no questions benefit to their best customers and dealt with wizards.

Leonard was just lucky Gornuk knew how to pick apart Compulsion Charms and Enchantments because the man had been lousy with them. Quirrell really had been clever. It was worrying. Even if the man did sometimes seem quite mad, he also managed to pull off schemes like this. How he was ever going to get close enough to kill him was almost beyond him.

Leonard's meeting seemed to be over. He was shaking the bankers hand and smiling, so it all seemed to have gone off without a hitch. Quirrell wouldn't even realise that his funds had disappeared from underneath him until he tried to use them. Gornuk felt no small amount of pride and the scheme he'd set up. He doubted any muggle or wizard would be able to find a way of reversing it. All those years working at Gringotts had certainly paid off.

He waited until Leonard was out of the bank before apparating to meet him. "Well?"

"Very impressive Mr Gornuk," said Leonard, smiling at him properly for the first time he could remember. "I've got nearly all the Lockhart funds back and wasn't once challenged. I'm glad you seemed to have sorted out everything ahead of time."

"I'm a banker. Of course I had everything sorted. Lunch?"

"Lunch," replied Leonard, nodding. "I'm thinking that little cafe by the river."

Gornuk sighed, shaking his head. "We're going there because your interested in someone on the serving staff, aren't we?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh, quit being such a killjoy," Leonard said dismissively.

As they walked along the wizarding street Gornuk paused. Were they being followed? It was probably nothing. He really needed to eat something; he was always a little jumpy when he was hungry. "Fine. But you're paying."

Leonard laughed.


	51. Burning Cafe

**AN: Sorry for the slow update. I've had some changes in my life recently and have been feeling much happier. Funnily that's what's been messing with my ability to continue the very bleak tone of this story. I've also got a lot of things in my life that need doing, so expect slower updates. To any readers of my other story, it might be a while before I touch that one again. It was really only meant to be a one shot and I don't really have a direction for it.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of value.**

Gornuk rammed the carving knife into the guts of the first Death Eater that rounded the corner, watching as the man's eyes bugged out behind his mask before he was cut down by a blade of flame thrown at neck height. Leonard grabbed the goblin by the scruff of the neck and pulled him back into cover. "Damn it Gornuk! Stop trying to get yourself killed and focus on dropping the bloody wards!"

The cafe was in ruins around them and Gornuk couldn't hear any screaming . That was incredibly bad. The Death Eaters must have found away to disable a room full of trained wizards, which probably meant that they'd manned up after their last setback. Add to that the fact that they were still having trouble getting past the wards and Gornuk was beginning to wonder whether they'd survive.

Leonard's steady stream of fire spells seemed to be holding the attackers back for the moment, so Gornuk took a moment to examine his surroundings. They were in the enchanted No Smoking Section, which was probably why everyone around them was still concious. Unfortunately all they had at their side was a pair of children huddled beside their bleeding mother, a scared waitress in the corner and an old man who seemed to be having some sort of heart problem. Thrice damned useless bloody humans.

Leonard sent a wave of fire flowing across the floor and Gornuk heard the cries of several men. It was impossible to focus in a fire-fight and he wasn't even certain his magic would the wards, since the first thing he'd lost was his wand. So, they had no way to drop the wards and absolutely no way out the front or back doors. That left the fireplace, if they could make it. Unfortunately, that was in the Smoking Section and Gornuk wasn't certain they'd make it there without falling over from the green fumes hanging in their, even if they weren't shot full of holes. They'd have to stay low, maybe if they had a distraction...

"Torch it!" yelled Gornuk.

Leonard glanced at him in between throwing spells blindly. "What?"

"Burn the place to the ground!"snapped Gornuk angrily.

"But-"

"Who cares about the customers!" snarled Gornuk, cutting the human off. "They're probably dead anyway. We need cover to head for the fireplace and the spells you're putting out aren't really cutting it."

Leonard shook his head, shifting his grip on his wand. "I've got a better idea." The patterns the man began weaving in the air looked complicated and Gornuk knew this was going to be special."Grab the others. We can't leave them to die."

The goblin sighed before kicking the waitress in the side. "Get up and grab the kids. We're making a run for it, so stay low, and hold your breath if you want to live."

The girl nodded weakly. "What about their mother and grandfather?" she asked, her voice shaking. Gornuk didn't deign to answer the question. It was clear to him that neither of them would make it. They'd be lucky if they did, for heaven's sake.

Leonard finished his preparations and unleashed a shimmering ceiling of blue flame high into the air that rushed across the space before falling like rain onto their enemies. Gornuk didn't wait to see if the waitress had listened to his instructions. The moment he'd seen Leonard's beckoning gesture he was running, his had already in his pocket, reaching for the vial of pre-addressed floo powder. He felt the pain of flames licking at his legs, but he was already at the fireplace, throwing the vial and diving in. Gornuk thought he'd heard Leonard behind him, but couldn't be sure. He'd just have to hope he'd made it out because Gornuk had to focus on himself. He was having trouble thinking clearly. The pain in his legs was getting worse and his head was beginning to spin.

Gornuk didn't even make it to the exit grate before he fell unconscious, slamming against the sides and bursting into their hideout with a thud. If he'd been awake he might have noticed Leonard and the waitress appearing behind him. Then again, he probably wouldn't have. He was in a lot of pain.

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Quirrell sneered down at the Death Eater who was rolling on the floor in imagined pain. The fool didn't even recognise Fool's Fire when he saw it. Waving his wand to dispel the blue flames that covered every surface, he jabbed the only survivor in the side. "Get up."

The man, his skull mask smudged grey with soot, scrambled to his feet. "Oh thank you my-"

"Shut up. Where did they go?" The man stared at him blankly and Quirrell snapped, grabbing him by the throat. "The goblin and Lockhart! Where did they go?"

The man swallowed weakly. "F-fireplace. T-they went into the fireplace m-my lord."

Quirrell glanced over at the ruined fireplace, the bricks around it blackened and warped. There was no way they could follow them through that. "God damn it! Maybe-no, no that would never work." Quirrell let the man sink back down to the floor. "Merlin's hair balls!" he yelled, blasting a chair out of his path.

"Burn everything before the aurors get here!" Quirrell yelled over his shoulder as he strode out the door. He'd have to change his plans since they'd have gone to ground by now. He'd get them, he swore it. It was only a matter of time. Quirrell paused for a moment. He'd have to watch it. There was just too much going on his head. He had to stay focused on what really mattered. He needed the stone. Vengeance was always secondary. If he got his hands on the stone then everything would be fine. Wouldn't it?

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Unfortunately Harry hadn't heard from Gornuk before it was time to head back to school, but then again, he hadn't really expected to. He'd just been hoping for a hint that the old goblin was okay, maybe a postcard, deliberately sent from the wrong city or something, but he supposed it must have been too great a risk.

At least he was catching up with the rest of his friends again. Harry had spent a few more days over at the Grangers and he'd been shocked about how much Hermione hid from them. She'd even listed the things not to mention. Don't mention the troll, don't tell them too much about the war, don't tell them how some people view muggleborns, the list went on and on. He'd never thought about how her parents would feel if they knew everything before. Harry doubted they'd let her stay at Hogwarts and wondered what it would have been like having a family that cared for him like that.

He was dropped off at the station by Ted, Andy and Sirius, since Remus wasn't officially meant to be around Harry, although Dumbledore had said he was working on that. Sirius had taken a great deal of pleasure from Harry's embarrassment when Andy had kissed him on the cheek, but had managed to hold his tongue. He'd been saved from any further embarrassment by the arrival of Ron and Neville who had dragged him on-board the express before Sirius could change his mind.

Ron was out ahead of the others and wasn't looking where he was going, so it was no surprise when he ran into the big man standing in the first carriage they came to. Harry and the others looked up. The man was tall, African and impeccably well dressed. He was also missing a hand. "You alright there son?" the man asked in a deep voice as he readjusted the cap which covered his bald head.

"Yeah," said Ron, who'd staggered from running into such an immovable object. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"I can see that," said the man smiling, revealing very white teeth. "You're one of Arthur's boys, aren't you?"

Ron nodded awkwardly. "I'm Ron. This is Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom," he said, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Very nice to meet you all," he said smiling. "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt, your Defence Teacher for the time being."

Ron frowned, looking confused. "Aren't you an auror?"

The man smiled ruefully, raising his stump. "I'm on leave. Hopefully not for long, however. Now, it was nice meeting you boys, but I've got to check the rest of the train. New policies, you know."

"Goodbye Professor," Neville said, awkwardly shifting out of the way. There wasn't much room in the corridors of the train and Professor Shacklebolt was massive. They watched the man leave the carriage and started heading for a compartment. "Well that was interesting."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. An auror would be a nice change from the usual nutters. We might even learn something now."

"What's that?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, hey Goyle. We just met the new Defence Teacher."

"Oh?"

"He's an auror named Kingsley Shacklebolt," piped up Ron. "My dad knows him from work."

"We've met," said Goyle quietly.

Harry frowned. "When?"

"He investigated my dad's death. He's a good person."

"Oh." The conversation withered away, just like that, and they made their way into the compartment to wait for the others in silence. Even when Hermione and Luna arrived they found it difficult to talk and Luna seemed to notice Goyle's discomfort and edged closer to him, putting her hand on his. As the train pulled away from the station Harry wished he hadn't asked the question. The answer should have been obvious, but he hadn't thought before opening his mouth.

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Harry sat silently for most of the rest of the trip to Hogwarts, lost in his thoughts. He barely even noticed getting off the train and heading for the carriages. What hit him when they neared the entrance to the Hogwart's grounds was sudden and horrifying. A wave of cold and despair washed over him, almost drowning him. He could see figures in dark cloaks at the windows, peering in hungrily. Then they were inside the grounds and the figures fell back.

"What the bloody hell was that?" said Ron shakily. He looked pale and sickly under his freckles.

"Dementor," replied Harry, forcing himself to remain calm. "Guards." He'd have to learn that charm if those things were going to be around the school. What little occlumency he knew wasn't going to cut it.

He could tell his friends were worried about him, but he couldn't bring himself to speak much. He sat quietly at dinner, barely listening to the introduction of Delores Umbridge as the Ministry Official charged with the safety of all the students and staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After barely eating, he made his way to bed with the others. Harry felt lost. He doubted he'd sleep at all tonight.


	52. Whately

**AN: Another chapter! Not my best, but even so my mojo is back.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas. **

The new caretaker rolled his trolley full of cleaning products through the halls, watching the students move past him looking at him curiously. Filch was unfortunately, or not as the case may have been, still paralysed and he'd been such a feature of the castle that many were stunned that anyone else could or would take the job. It wouldn't be long before they were all ignoring him however. He was a cleaner. No-one ever noticed the cleaner. The only reason anyone ever paid attention to Filch was because he gave out detentions and took points.

Andrew Mendax stretched his back and hoisted his belt, which had about as many pouches as Hagrid's coat, higher on his large pot belly. There was a lot of things Old Filch had missed with his poor eyesight and obsession with catching the 'Weasley twins'. He'd made the mistake of asking Professor Snape about those two. The words 'marauders' and 'vicious bastards' had appeared at least four times each in the space of a two minute period. Andrew was now terrified he wouldn't be able to get anything done.

Plus, Dumbledore still wouldn't give him the keys he needed. 'Security concerns' he said. Andrew hated it when people did that, since it made jobs so much more inconvenient. Hagrid was no help either. The Keeper of the Keys could be surprisingly tight fisted. He supposed he'd have to do things the hard way. Sighing, Andrew pulled his blue mop and bucket off the trolley and started his way down the abandoned corridor.

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Harry slid down the corridor, past the trolley and down the stairs. "New guy takes his job seriously,"he said, waiting for his friends to catch up.

"Well, considering how old Filch was, is it any surprise he's been doing a bad job?" asked Hermione, hefting her bag.

"Hermione Granger disrespecting a staff member? I'm shocked. Ouch!" Ron ducked his head as she took another swing at him with her folder of notes. "Hey! That's heavier than our text books, remember!"

Hermione, to her credit, looked horrified. "Oh god! I'm sorry! I thought I was-"

Harry tuned them out as he reached the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom door. Those two always squabbled. It was practically their default behaviour. Trying the door and finding it unlocked he entered, sitting down next to Neville, who had somehow got there first. "The Professor here yet?" he asked quietly, glancing around the dark room.

"He's just getting something." They grinned as Ron stubbed his toe coming through the door.

"Whys there no lights?"

"Apparently the professor's doing a presentation to introduce us into the proper course work."

"Oh." They sat quietly as the rest of the class drifted in, since no-one was certain what the mysterious Professor Shacklebolt would be like. Harry and the others who'd met him doubted he'd be bad, but he supposed a big black man might scare some people, especially the little Slytherins they shared the class with. Then again, everything scared the Slytherins. Stuff in the Daily Prophet, large shadows, small mice. Actually that was a little unfair, but being part of a small house and their alumni seemingly being targeted by psychopathic terrorists had made the remaining snakes strangely timid and paranoid.

"Good," came a deep voice from the door. "You're all here on time." Professor Shacklebolt strode to the back of the class, carrying a briefcase. "I'm Professor Shacklebolt and today we are going to be looking at what you should have been taught from the start of the year." He placed the briefcase on an empty table and pulled out his wand, tapping it gently on the case and stepped back as it unfolded to become a large slide projector. Fiddling with a few knobs, he nodded in satisfaction and walked up to the front. "Well then, lets make a start. We only have a very short time to cover any of this material, so unfortunately we won't be able to do much theory after this class. I hope you're all paying attention."

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"He's not bad," said Harry happily. He liked Professor Shacklebolt and though he seemed inexperienced, he hid it well enough from the rest of the class. The promise of mostly practical work was extremely appealing.

Hermione gave a non-committal noise and Harry had the distinct feeling the girl was subconsciously thinking back to Lockhart. That man's effect was amazingly far reaching and long lasting; it was no wonder he'd never been exposed in his lifetime.

"I liked him," said Neville. "He's a bit dry, but I guess he's new. I'm looking forward to some practical after all that rubbish Lockhart made us sit through"

Another non-committal noise and Harry shook his head ruefully. It sounded like Hermione was going to need some converting.

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Umbridge scowled. She had been promised power by Quirrell and secrecy by his whore, but she could not have thought of a higher cost. She'd always hated children, even when she was a child. Being stuck looking after them was her worst nightmare. Dementors were less cruel than the little brats running around the halls of this accursed school, sniggering at her as she walked past, laughing behind her back. If she could punish the vermin for their insolence she might feel better about being here, but she wasn't on the staff.

What made the experience worse was that even if that bitch Rita hadn't been blackmailing her, this probably would have been the best move politically anyway. Fudge was her only solid backer and the man had somehow lost his magic touch in one fell swoop. Disappearing from political life for a while 'to protect our future' would be the only way anyone would forget their petty grievances and begin to think of her as a real option. With Quirrell's power on the rise, she was practically guaranteed a good position in the ministry. She'd be out of the way when the heads started to roll and able to step into another man's shoes.

Quirrell was a much finer man than Fudge, now that she thought about it. Fudge, bless him, had the illusion of power while Quirrell practically exuded it from every pore. When she'd met with him and his servants, she could see their devotion to him, their absolute loyalty. Such a fine man. It was a shame he'd fallen to that scarlet woman.

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Tonks was sitting outside Whately's office, winging her feet and feeling bored. He'd left her waiting for half an hour for Merlin's sake. How rude was that? Admittedly she was just a Trainee Auror, but when some paper pusher in another department called her in for a favour Tonks expected punctuality. The way they were pushing aurors out into the field at the moment she might not even be a trainee for much longer. True, it was a long shot, but there were a lot of provisional aurors already and she was close to the top of most of her classes.

Tonks stood up, glaring at the enchanted door sign. If he'd wanted to talk to her so badly he'd just have to cut his meeting short. "Alohamora." She tried the door. Nothing happened, so she hammered hard. "Whately! Open up dammit!"

Still no response. Tonks was starting to get worried. He really shouldn't have left her waiting this long. Was he alright in there? He wasn't an old man by any means, but he still could have had an accident. She sized up the door. Though it'd be cool, it'd be best not to try to kick the door in, not with her coordination. She'd blow its hinges off, that was it.

A pair of reductos and the door fell inwards with a crash, causing a startled yelp from somewhere behind her. Tonks didn't bother with that. Her eyes were fixed on the ruin that was the office. The filing cabinets she'd remembered from her last visit were strewn around the floor, torn open. Paper lay everywhere, shredded so that it looked like the cage of the hamster she'd had as a pet when she was young.

"What the hell?" Tonks mouthed silently, slipping into a duelling stance. Something was definitely very wrong here. Why would someone want to trash Whately's office so badly? The man recorded the birth of squibs for heavens sake. Had they been looking for something? Had they found it? There'd be no way of telling, which might explain why someone had wrecked the place so badly. She peered under the desk carefully and almost unbalanced in shock. "Whately?"

A pair of feet stuck out from a mound of paper. Those shoes were his for certain, ridiculous turquoise things with curling toes that had to be tied to his knees so the man could even walk. "Hold on Whately, I'll dig you out," she called, hoping he could hear her as she used her wand to blow the paper off his prone form. His face, with its slick skin and pasty complexion was the first thing to show and she gasped in horror. His eyes were open and a terrified expression was frozen on his unattractive features. Whately, a bland but kind pen pusher who'd never hurt so much as a fly in his entire life, had been murdered.

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It had been hours waiting until the curse-breakers and examiners had fining going over the room, looking for any clue of the attacker or their purpose to no avail. Tonks had been asked the same questions over and over again, like someone thought that the asking would somehow change the answers. The fact that it didn't seemed to anger some, but Moody seemed unbothered. Eventually it was over and she was being escorted outside, to wait while the higher ups discussed what was to be done.

Tonks had been left waiting for so long that she'd found herself nodding off several times and so had gotten up and had a cup of tea. This seemed to have done the trick, so she was quite startled to find herself being shaken roughly awake.

"Wha-Ah!" She reeled back from the scarred, lopsided monstrosity looking down at her. "Damn it Moody! Don't do that. I've had a hard enough day as it is."

"Oh suck it up Nymphadora," growled the old man, pulling her to her feet. "This isn't anywhere near what I'd consider a bad day."

Tonks couldn't argue with that, so opted with grumbling under her breath as she was dragged down the corridor by the surprisingly fast old codger. "Moody, where are we going?" she asked waspishly. "I'm tired enough as it is."

"Oh?" said Moody, not looking at her as he clumped his way down the hall. "Too tired to even be my probationary partner in an important case?"

She stumbled in shock, sputtering. "What? Why?"

Moody scowled irritably. "Kingsley's on leave, all the other aurors are busy with their own cases and you're the only trainee I've actually seen that I liked, so it looks like you're stuck with me. Don't do anything to change that."

Tonks honestly considered doing a little jig, but decided against that. She didn't want to hurt her chances just yet.


	53. Angelique

**AN: Thoughts are still flowing thankfully.**

**Disclaimer: It's up there.**

Tonks stretched her arms, yawning. It had been a long three days interviewing Whately's family and friends. Not that he'd had many friends, mainly just work colleagues, which was leaving them without many leads. There was no way his parents could have done it, given their health, so it was looking to be almost certainly a hit.

What they did no was that someone had somehow dropped through the ministry wards, apparating straight into Whately's office, killed him and shredded practically every sheet of paper in the room, then apparated out again. It was a nightmare. Alastor thought it was probably an attempt to cover up something to do with a squib. The catch with that was they now had to track down every squib out there to check on them and the only one who'd had the papers on any of them was Whately. It was a nightmare.

Moody looked over a her, frowning. "You've been at it pretty hard Nymphadora. Call it a day."

Tonks felt like objecting, both to the use of her first name and her dismissal, but quickly pulled her head in. She shouldn't really complain. She was working on her first case and doing more than most of the other trainees on duty.

"Yes Moody," she said, scooping some files up and putting them into the messy 'to do' pile on one side of the desk. A thought crossed her mind. "Hey Moody?"

"Yes?" he asked, looking at her with his magical eye while pouring over yet another file. Apparently he wasn't willing to clock in just yet.

"I was thinking," she began nervously. "You know how the papers were cursed to be unrepairable?"

Moody grunted, still focused on his work. "Yes. So?"

"Do you think it was to cover up that something was missing or to cover up that something was never there in the first place?"

"You're suggesting someone did it to pretend to be a squib." Moody's tone was flat and unreadable, making Tonks feel very nervous.

"Well, yes." Her voice sounded doubtful, even to her.

Moody stopped what he was doing and looked up, properly this time. "I won't say it's impossible, but why would anyone want to pretend to be a squib? They have practically no power and most of them are disinherited. How would it benefit anyone?"

"Well if they wanted to disappear-"

"Then why would they put so much effort into such a difficult hit?" Moody sighed, running his hand over his face. "It's an interesting thoery, so we won't discount it, but I don't think it's likely. What's more likely someone wanted to blackmail a family using information on their squib relations. You know how much most families would fear that being exposed, especially some of the dark ones who've knock theirs off."

Tonks nodded, disappointed. "Yes boss." She'd thought her theory was a good one. She supposed she could keep looking into it, but knew Moody wouldn't be likely to believe her and though she wanted to prove herself, didn't want to become a laughing stock. Then again, if she kept it on the back burner and kept up with the rest of her work... Tonks resolved to look into the matter herself.

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Gornuk blinked up at the wooden ceiling. It didn't look familiar, so Leonard must have moved them. That was good. He frankly didn't want to have Death Eaters busting down the door any time soon. That would be unpleasant, especially since he'd only just woken up and found his arms and legs had been hoisted up into odd positions. They felt fine now, but that probably meant he'd had a lot of broken bones from the trip back.

He wondered who made it. Leonard obviously, since they'd made a move and possibly the waitress and those two children, but their mother and grandfather were almost certainly gone. How had Leonard dealt with them? Had he simply dropped them off in a town somewhere, or had he thought to wipe their minds? Gornuk wasn't certain that was necessary, but felt it would probably be better if he had, just in case they'd seen something.

A sound came from the other end of the room and he looked up to see the waitress from the cafe entering the room. She looked exhausted, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun at the base of her neck and a serious expression fixed on her face. "So, you are awake?"

Gornuk wasn't certain what to say, but he nodded. What was she doing here? Why hadn't Leonard simply left her behind? Maybe he had and the Death Eaters had come for her. That would make sense. "Hello."

She walked over and made a few minor gestures with her wand. Finally unslung, Gornuk was able to sit up properly and take a good look around. It seemed to be a country cottage of some sort. "Where are we?" he asked curiously.

"My home," replied the girl. "Mr Lockhart recommended we find somewhere secluded when the Death Eaters started chasing us. I had a stalker a while back, so I had the place heavily warded. Not even my family know where it is any-more."

This last comment held a hint of sadness, but he ignored it. There were bigger things to worry about. "Who else is here?"

"It's just us three," said the girl, a painful expression marring her pretty face. "I felt their hands go limp. They slipped from my fingers and I didn't didn't even bother to look back." Gornuk wasn't certain there was anything he could say to a human about that, so he thought it was better to say nothing at all. After a moment she glanced back down at him. "Hungry?"

"Very. How long was I out?"

"Well over a week," said the girl, standing up. "I'll leave you to get dressed. Lunch should be on the table in half an hour." She turned to leave and Gornuk realised something.

"Wait," he called as she reached thee door. "What's your name?"

She smiled weakly. "Does it matter any more? My life's gone to hell and I won't even be able to keep it if I don't want to endanger my family. Plus I don't really trust you."

The goblin frowned. She had a point and he had to respect her priorities. "Then what should I call you?" he asked.

She shrugged carelessly. "Call me Angelique. Everyone does."

"It's not your real name, is it?"

She gave him a rather contemptuous look. "Of course not. Stalker, remember?"

Gornuk smiled. "Of course. Nice to meet you Angelique."

"Nice to meet you too," she replied, sighing. Angeligue stood there, considering him for a moment. "You are a very strange goblin."

"Oh?" said Gornuk, an eyebrow raised. "And how many goblins do you actually know?"

She smirked at him without amusement. "Well I was married to one and I never really got on with my in-laws. Does that count?"

Gornuk blinked, surprised. He'd never heard of this scandal, which must mean that the family had covered it up. Which- ah... "Let me guess," he said carefully. "It was stalkers, not stalker." Her face flickered with fear for a moment and he knew he was correct. "I'm sorry. My kind doesn't usually much care for humans."

"Don't I know it." She stood, looking at him for carefully a moment. "Anyway, like I said, you are a very strange goblin. Relatively polite, non-judgemental, no air of superiority. Everything Lockhart made you out to be. He's the only reason you're still here, you know."

Gornuk nodded, making a mental note to thank his friend later. "I suppose I am a strange goblin," he said finally, smiling a little at the girl. "Thank-you. I know it must have been hard to allow me into your home."

Angelique smiled a little. "Well, you're not the first goblin to sleep in my bed. Get dressed."

Gornuk snorted in humour as she left the room. He thought he could grow to like Angelique.

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Dumbledore and Charles Weasley looked disappointed as the session came to an end. Harry felt much the same. After the initial discovery and destruction of so many horcruxes it was a little disheartening for things to go so poorly. The headmaster thought that the school's magic might well be causing interference and so it had been decided that the next session would be held outside the school grounds, at a specially prepared ritual sight.

Harry wasn't looking forward to it, though it would be a while before they would try it. He was feeling absolutely exhausted and had to keep an eye on where he was going to avoid becoming lost. His legs felt heavy, his arms felt heavy, just about everything felt heavy. He must be on the third floor, right? Harry honestly wasn't sure.

"Hey watch it boy!" Harry came to his senses as he heard the shout. It was the new caretaker, hurrying over to him, mop in hand, a concerned look on his face. "Didn't you see the signs?"

He hadn't honestly, but now he could see what appeared to be some variation on a wet floor sign. Except... was the little man's feet being dissolved as he fell? They were. "Sorry," he said, feeling a little sick as he watched the little character writhing around on the floor.

"You alright?" said the man, looking concerned. Harry could see he was wearing thick dragon-skin boots. "Didn't step in it, did you?"

Harry shook his head. "Why do you use that stuff?" he asked, a hint of horror in his voice.

The pudgy man looked a little guilty. "Easiest way to get things done and I didn't think anyone would be up at this hour. Mind not telling anyone for me?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. I'll just be going." As he continued making his way back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind travelled to the ritual. He'd be doing it after his exams, which was a relief. He didn't know how he'd cope having to do it during exams, especially with Hermione constantly breathing down his neck.

Stepping through the portrait, he smiled at his friends who'd apparently waited up for him. Somehow they'd even managed to wrangle up some food. Though it wasn't a big deal, he was grateful. They didn't have to take care of him, but here they were. He sat down in an empty chair and relaxed. Life was good, even with crazy rituals and madmen out for his head. All he'd have to do is make certain none of the food had been touched by Fred or George and he'd be fine.


End file.
